


When I Fall

by Cantica10



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dark, Family Fluff, Gen, Healing, Kidnapping, Older Dipper Pines, Older Mabel Pines, Protective Grunkle Stan, Sibling Bonding, There will be fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:46:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 48,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4687748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantica10/pseuds/Cantica10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years after his sister is kidnapped, a surprise phone call changes everything for Dipper Pines. Mabel has been found, and she's going to need a strong support network to heal from the mental and physical scars of her ordeal. With a change of scenery to Gravity Falls, Oregon staying with their Great Uncle, Dipper and Mabel are going to have to face her inner demons, and maybe take out a few real ones on the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How High I Can Climb

“Dipper, look how high I can climb!” Mabel exclaimed, hoisting herself onto the lowest branch of the nearest tree in the park and reaching out to grab another. She swung herself up, giggling. “This is a great climbing tree.”

“Bet I can climb higher!” Dipper said, hurrying to crawl up the branches to reach his sister on her tree branch. This was a game they loved to play when they found a good climbing tree. So far Mable was up five to four; Dipper was determined to even the score today. He’d never live it down if she won twice in one day – this morning she’d discovered that she was taller than him, even if it was by only a millimeter, and she’d made sure to lord it over him all morning.

“You’re on!” Mabel grinned, immediately grabbing the next branch. “Race you to the top!”

Occupied by the challenge, the twins didn’t notice that from across the street, a pair of eyes were watching them as they made their way as high as the tree’s branches would support them, patiently waiting for an opportunity. He’d been watching them for almost a month now, but they were always together, never separated. He only needed one chance, one opportunity…

Dipper just barely swung himself onto the highest branch of the tree before his sister and felt a surge of triumph. “I win!”

“No fair, Dipper!” Mabel sulked, joining him on the branch. “My sweater caught on that branch down there!”

“It’s your fault for wearing a sweater like that when you’re climbing trees,” Dipper said, gesturing to her knit sweater that was nearly two sizes too big for her. He refused to be guilted into nulling his victory. “Now it’s five to five!”

“Fine,” Mabel sighed, leaning back on the branch. “But I’ll get you next time!”

“We’ll see.”

Across the street, their watcher saw his long-awaited chance. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating all his focus on the branch the twins were perched on. The girl was on the outside of the branch. If he just sent out the right energy…

 _Snap_.

The branch split clean in half, right between the siblings, and Mabel screamed as she went plummeting to the ground, hitting several tree branches during the fall. Dipper had barely registered what was happening before she hit the ground, unmoving. “Mabel!” he yelled in a panic, immediately attempting to begin climbing down, but he felt himself yanked back into the tree. His vest was caught on a particularly sharp twig.

Dipper heard a car door slam and a saw a hooded figure in all black sprinting towards his sister from across the street. For a wild moment he thought they were coming to help. “Hey!” he shouted to them. “Call 911! Help!”

But the person ignored him, hoisting Mabel into his arms. He briefly looked up and Dipper froze with fear as the face beneath the hood grinned up at him; a demented smile beneath two glowing yellow eyes with slits for pupils.

And then the man was gone, hurrying back across the street, and Dipper began screaming for his sister, for anyone, as the man stuffed Mabel into his car and clambered into the driver’s seat. There came the sound of the engine and the squeal of tires as the car shot into the street and sped off, disappearing around a corner.

And Dipper could only scream.

“MABEL!”


	2. One Foot in Front of the Other

Dipper Pines sat back in his chair and breathed a sigh of relief. That was it. His last final of his first year of college finished with. He felt liberated. The whole summer was ahead of him.

He already had a job lined up working for a landscaping company, and was hoping to earn enough to at least cover half of next year’s tuition costs. He could use what little time he wouldn’t be working to try and figure out what classes to take when he returned for the fall semester. He was thus far undeclared, and the pressure to choose a major was starting to affect him.

He passed groups of his classmates rejoicing over the completion of finals as he crossed the small campus of his college to his car, a beat up old thing that had once belonged to his parents. He had a lot of their stuff, inherited it last year after they’d died in the accident.

Dipper shuddered. He didn’t like to think about the car crash.

He climbed into the driver’s side and threw his bag onto the passenger seat, contemplating whether or not he should waste a dollar and go get a soda from the convenience store he passed every day on the way to his apartment. What the hell. It was a special occasion.

He started up the car and pulled into the street. Things were going pretty much the way he expected. He was looking forward to a normal enough summer.

How could he have known that in six minutes his life was going to turn anything but?

 

Dipper was standing in line with a bottle of soda behind two other people in the store when his phone began to ring. He wondered if it was work as he reached into his pocket to check the caller ID, hoping there hadn’t been some complication with his employment. But the number was an unfamiliar one, so he ignored it. He wasn’t in the habit of answering his phone when he wasn’t sure who was calling.

His phone rang again thirty seconds later. Dipper checked it. Same number. Whoever it was, they were persistent. Sighing, he accepted the call and pressed his phone to his ear. “This is Dipper.”

“Mr. Pines?” he didn’t know the voice on the other end.

“That’s me,” Dipper confirmed. “Can I help you?”

“I’m with the police department in San Francisco, and I have some news I think you’re going to want to hear.” The man on the other end sounded awkward.

“What is it?” Dipper asked. His stomach was starting to twist. What could the police possibly want to do with him?

“We have a Mabel Pines in our custody. She was found today during a drugs bust and… she’s not doing well. We’d really appreciate it if you could come down here.”

Dipper was rooted where he stood. His heart hurt. His stomach was churning. His sister. His twin sister who he’d given up on ever seeing again years ago. His sister who he’d been certain was dead. “You… you found Mabel?” he whispered.

“Yes, sir. We found her. We found your sister.”

“But… is she okay? You said she was found during a drugs bust. Is she in trouble?!”

“…….I really think you should come down here.”

Dipper couldn’t think rationally anymore. He barely registered his surroundings as he bolted to the door and out to his car. It was only later, as he sped down the highway in a haste to get to San Francisco, that he realized he’d run out of the store still holding the bottle of soda, forgetting completely to pay for it.

 

Adjusting to life without his other half had been difficult. He’d resented himself ever since the day of Mabel’s abduction seven years ago, blaming himself. He could have abandoned his vest in the tree and gotten to her before that man wearing black had. He could have made sure the branch was able to hold both their weights before they settled onto it. He could have put a stop to their tree climbing game altogether. If he had done any one of those things, maybe she would still be with him.

But he hadn’t. He’d only screamed as he watched his sister being stolen from him. He hated himself for it.

The police had been little help. Dipper was questioned three or four times, he couldn’t really remember. Questioned about what he and Mabel had been doing, what the man looked like, what his car looked like. He’d tried to tell them about the man’s glowing yellow eyes, but everyone had brushed him aside until even Dipper didn’t believe it anymore. It had to have just been some fear-induced hallucination. After twenty-four hours the questions stopped. An amber alert went out, but the police had lost their steam. A detective had been brought in, but after two weeks with no results everyone seemed to have given up. And while it had torn Dipper’s parents apart, they admitted it was almost certain they would never see Mabel again.

It had taken weeks for Dipper to accept that. He’d returned to the park every day, watching the streets for the car, climbing the tree countless times in an effort to remember anything about the day he may have forgotten, something significant that he could use to catch Mabel’s kidnapper. But eventually, he too had given up hope.

He let his parents move Mabel’s things out of the room he had once shared with his twin. Pictures were taken down from the walls that were just too painful to look at. Drawings were removed from the fridge door. Clothes were donated to charity.

After a while it was like they had forgotten there was ever another child in the house. And finally, when Dipper was sixteen, they held a memorial service for Mabel Pines to receive some closure, and Dipper, who had gone completely numb to talk of his lost twin, had given her up for good.

But now she was back. Back from the dead, it seemed to him. There would be so much to tell her. So much to try and get her through.

So much to understand.

And so much to apologize for.

 

An hour after he’d gotten the phone call, Dipper pulled into the public parking lot across the street from the San Francisco police station and got out of his car, feeling sick. At some point during the drive he realized he was going to have to tell his sister that their parents were dead, and that wasn’t helping all the other thoughts and emotions swirling in chaotic turmoil inside of his head and his heart. Mabel was inside. He was going to see Mabel again. He was going to bring her home, and try to help.

But he had no idea how he was going to do any of that.

“One foot in front of the other, Dipper,” he encouraged himself under his breath. “You can do this.” At an almost painful pace, he made his way across the street and into the station.

As he came in the man behind their front desk casually looked up. “May I help you?”

“I’m, uh… Dipper Pines,” Dipper said, not sure what else to do. “I was told to come here as fast as I could.”

Immediately, the man’s face fell into a solemn expression. “Mr. Pines. Yes. Here,” he said, passing a guest pass over the counter. “Go up to social services on the third floor. They’re waiting for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made my roommate sad when she read this for me, so I'm considering it a success. Watch for chapter 3.


	3. I'm Looking for my Sister

Stepping out of the elevator onto the third floor was harder than it should have been. Dipper didn’t know if he was sick, worried, afraid, or all three at once. Somewhere in this place, his sister was waiting. Somewhere, in the dark recesses of his subconscious, he almost dreaded seeing her, for fear she would blame him as he blamed himself.

But Mabel had never been like that. It was always Dipper that was far too hard on himself. Mabel forgave easily. She always had such a big heart. Dipper wondered whether or not the last seven years had taken it from her.

He departed the elevator and looked around. There was another front desk five feet in front of him, the woman sitting there typing away at her computer. “Excuse me,” he said, attracting her notice. “I’m Dipper Pines. I’m looking for my sister.”

“Dipper.” The woman stood up at once. “We’ve been waiting for you. Here, follow me.” She stepped out from behind the desk and gestured for him to follow her as she unlocked the door on the back wall.

“How is she?” Dipper asked as he followed her through the door and trailed after her down the hallway.

“We’re not sure. She was found this morning, and… well, I think her case manager should give you the details.”

That didn’t help. Dipper wanted to ask more questions, but it appeared this woman wasn’t going to tell him anything of importance. All he could do was follow her until she stopped at a door near the end of the hallway. “It’s this one,” she said.

Dipper stared at her expectantly. “Are you going in?”

“Oh; no. I’ve got to get back to the front desk.” The woman stepped back from the door and gave him a sullen look. “Good luck.”

“Um… thanks,” Dipper said. The woman left him, setting off down the hall the way they’d come.

Dipper stood alone in front of the door for several seconds, gathering his courage. This was it. His sister was just beyond the door.

He pushed it open. “Hello?”

It looked like he had walked into a counselor’s office, and for a moment Dipper had to wonder if this was the proper room after all, but then he noticed two women sitting on the couch. One of them stood up from the couch and spoke his name. “Dipper?”

“Yes,” Dipper said, coming in and shutting the door behind him. He took a good long look around, searching for Mabel. She wasn’t there. He noticed on of the walls was a one-way mirror, looking into a room that appeared to be a sparse living room, with a couch and a coffee table. He couldn’t see Mabel inside there either.

“It’s good to meet you,” the woman said, reaching out to shake Dipper’s hand. “My name is Erika Brown. I was assigned to your sister’s case this morning. This is Sarah Lewis, a psychologist with the police.” Erika gestured to the other woman in the room.

Dipper couldn’t be bothered with formalities any longer. He just needed to know details of his sister’s case. “How is she?” he burst. “How is Mabel?”

Erika gestured to the armchair in the room. “Please sit, Dipper.” Slowly, he did, and she continued. “First of all, we’d like you to know Mabel’s physical health is going to be fine. She saw a doctor this morning and was prescribed some antibiotics.”

“A doctor?” Dipper demanded.

Erika nodded. “Yes. It’s protocol in cases like your sister’s that she see a health care professional immediately.”

The sick feeling festering in Dipper’s stomach was getting worse by the second. “Cases like hers?” he repeated.

Erika sighed. “Dipper… your sister… she hasn’t had an easy time. Mabel has been abused for several years, physically, emotionally…” she sighed. “And sexually.”

Dipper nearly threw up. Sarah passed him a wastebasket and he wretched over it for a few moments, but nothing came up, to his relief. “Sorry,” he gasped.

“Would you like some water?” Sarah asked him, looking concerned.

“Please.”

As Sarah stood and crossed the room to a mini fridge in the corner, Erika continued. “From what it looked like, Mabel has been kept in a closet for most of the last seven years with very little exposure to sunlight. She is very undernourished. We’re assuming that when she was let out it was for the purposes of abuse. Mabel would probably be able to tell us more herself, but she hasn’t spoken a word since she was found.”

Dipper wretched again and Sarah handed him a bottle of water. He nodded his thanks as he wrenched the cap off and gulped down half the bottle. “This is terrible,” he rasped. “Just… my god.” He tried to recover but could still feel his stomach churning. “But… she’s still alright? I mean… she can come home?”

Sarah spoke up. “We do think staying with someone she knew from her past would be best, but there have been some concerns about whether you would be able to support her. Please don’t take offense,” she added quickly as she saw Dipper’s face contort into something akin to anger. “But Mabel is extremely delicate right now. Someone is going to need to be with her at all hours of the day.”

“I can manage that,” Dipper said immediately. “Please. I’ve spent seven years without her. I thought she was _dead._ I can’t leave without Mabel.”

Sarah sighed. “If you’re certain, we’ll release her to your custody.”

Dipper sat back and took off his hat, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, then… good.” He shut his eyes and took several breaths. “Where is she? I want to see her.”

Erika nodded and went to the door that would lead to the room on the other end of the two-way mirror. “She’s in here.”

“But… I don’t see her,” Dipper said, looking back towards the glass.

“She’s there,” Erika said. “Trust me.” She opened the door and gestured to Dipper. He stood up out of his chair and went to the door. “I’ll let you have your reunion in peace,” Erika said, patting Dipper on the shoulder. “Sarah and I are out here if you need us.”

Steeling his nerve, Dipper stepped into the room. The door shut behind him. He scanned the room with his gaze, feeling his heart twisting when at last, after seven long years, he laid eyes on her.

“Mabel,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the cliffhanger. Really. So sorry. Please watch for chapter four.


	4. A Really, Really Huge Favor

For all the scenarios that he had run through his head on the drive over, imagining the moment he was reunited with Mabel at last, this had not once crossed his mind.

The girl huddled in the corner with her bony knees pulled to her chest and arms hanging limply at her sides, hidden from the view of those on the other side of the one-way mirror, was Mabel; of that, at least Dipper was certain. But he hadn’t expected her to be a skeletal thing, her long brown hair clumped in tangles and her skin unnaturally pale and marred by angry bruises and faded scars. He hadn’t expected her to remain entirely motionless even as he slowly approached her, staring with dead eyes at the floor.

She was nothing like he remembered. She wore basketball shorts and an old t-shirt that must have come from some box they had lying about in social services that drowned her, not a fluffy oversized sweater like she had always worn when they were kids. She always looked so different without them. She was not bright and bubbly with a chubby face and pink cheeks. She was not excited to see him. She was motionless and silent. But she was still Mabel.

“Mabel,” he repeated himself, a little louder as he knelt down next to her. She still didn’t move. There was no sign that she even heard him. “Hey,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to do besides keep talking. “Mabel, it’s me. It’s Dipper. I’m here.”

His breath hitched as she lifted her head, staring straight through him at first. But by slow degrees, he saw the recognition register in her eyes.

“I’m here,” Dipper said again, like he needed to convince her. “I found you.”

She let out a whimper and stretched out her legs, awkwardly swinging them away from Dipper so she could shift her body just enough to lean forward, and Dipper watched almost painfully as she lifted her arms and held them out to him. He didn’t need her to say anything to know what she wanted. It was a gesture he recognized from when they were kids and she was upset, and she hadn’t needed words then either.

He gathered her in his arms and pulled her close, and that’s when he started to cry. Mabel was clinging to him with as much strength as she had, which wasn’t much, sobbing into his shoulder, and it was as though all his emotions burst out of him. “I love you so much,” Dipper choked out, starting to rock back and forth as though that could comfort both of them. “I missed you. Jesus, I missed you so much. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Mabel.”

Mabel never spoke a word throughout their tearful reunion, but Dipper didn’t feel like anything was missing. This was his sister. She was back, and as far as he was concerned he wasn’t ever letting her go again.

 

A long while later, after the twins were all cried out, they left the police station together. Mabel was extremely unsteady on her legs, having not used them frequently for so long, but she managed, clinging to Dipper for support when her balance wavered and refusing, in her own silent way, to be further than arm’s distance from him.

Dipper had been given a folder filled with instructions on what Mabel needed, and his mind was racing as he tried to think of how he would manage all of them. It was brought to his attention fairly quickly that she still had her braces on her teeth and they were going to need to be removed as soon as possible. She had antibiotics to take for inflammation of her cervix (that news had been particularly painful to hear) every morning and evening. . She needed someone she trusted available to her at all hours of the day, and it was important she was introduced to new people slowly and carefully, and never more than one at a time. He shouldn’t worry so much about her silence; she would find her voice when she was ready, and they could decide what to do from there. Dipper should consider finding her a physical therapist to start rebuilding her muscles. And most importantly, Mabel needed to be renourished, which was a delicate process that required calorie counting and weigh-ins every day to make sure she was gaining weight properly.

Dipper, while overjoyed to be bringing Mabel home with him, was also wallowing in the onslaught of stress that caring for her would entail, and stewing in fury from the news that her kidnapper and abuser had yet to be caught. According to Erika, the house she was held in had been abandoned hours before the police had gotten an anonymous tip that there were drugs within it, and while drugs were found their unearthing had been greatly overshadowed by the girl the SWAT team had discovered bound and blindfolded in the basement closet.

Dipper unlocked Mabel’s door for her and helped her settle into the passenger seat of his car, leaning over her to buckle her seatbelt for her. She hadn’t smiled yet, but she was watching him every second. He could feel her gaze on him as he shut her door and hurried around the front of the car to the driver’s side. “You ready?” he asked his sister. She didn’t respond, but he hadn’t expected her to.

He started the car and pulled out of the lot, gearing himself up for a long ride home and wondering what he was going to do when they got there.

 

It became overwhelmingly apparent after four hours that Dipper was not going to be able to take care of Mabel by himself. When he was leading her up to his apartment they passed two of the building resident in the halls, and Mabel had gotten so scared she’d fallen over trying to run away. And that was only the beginning of their problems.

The fright in the hall was so bad Mabel was practically catatonic the rest of the evening. Dipper ushered her inside and sat her on the couch as he scoured the kitchen for the rice he knew he had, which was one of the foods on the list of foods that would be good for her, and she slid off the couch and onto the floor, resuming the curled up position she had when Dipper had first seen her at the police department in San Francisco.

He found the rice and managed to cook a proper sized serving for her, keeping an eye on her as he stood at his stove, but when he went to her and tried to get her to eat, she panicked and let out a small shriek, which was the loudest Dipper had heard her be so far, and knocked the bowl out of his hands before proceeding to begin sobbing into her arms.

That shook him up. He tried explaining that he wasn’t trying to scare her and he just wanted to help, but there was no consoling her. The only thing he could do was sit next to her holding his head while he waited it out. When she finally did come around, Dipper managed with a great amount of effort to coax her into eating a cup of applesauce.

Getting her to bed was a different matter. Dipper dug up a T-shirt of his he figured she could sleep in for the night and he could figure some way to get her clothes the next day. He tried giving it to her, but she only stared at him as the shirt fell into her lap.

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. “Well… I guess you can sleep in what you’re wearing now.” But getting her into different clothes, when he acquired them, was going to be a whole new challenge altogether. “Come on,” he held out his hands and she took them, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. “You can sleep in my bed,” Dipper told her, leading her into his bedroom. He pulled back the sheets and awkwardly helped Mabel into the bed, pulling the covers over her. “Is this okay?” he asked, sitting down next to her.

She made a small noise of content and shut her eyes. Dipper sighed, but a smile tugged at his lips. He patted her shoulder once and stood up. “Good night, Sis,” he whispered, shutting off the light and closing the door.

He sank down onto the couch and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t do this,” he groaned. Normally he wouldn’t have given up on a challenge so easily, but if he didn’t properly take care of Mabel there would be enormous ramifications. He simply didn’t have the energy to keep this up. He couldn’t work because he needed to be with her all the time. He couldn’t go out and buy food and clothes for her because she panicked when she saw other people. And since he couldn’t work there was no way he’d be able to afford all the things he was going to need for her.

Yes, he needed help. But who could he ask for help? He didn’t have any friends, and Mabel was his only family.

Wait… except for…

They did have one family member left, but Dipper had only met the man once three years ago at the memorial service for Mabel, when everyone thought she was gone forever. He hadn’t spoken much, but Dipper did remember that, when the old man thought no one was looking, he’d been sentimental for just a few moments over “that poor girl.”

Dipper stood up and went rummaging through drawers for his father’s old address book, eventually finding it beneath a pile of receipts. He hoped the number would still work.

Taking a deep breath, Dipper dialed the number belonging to his Great Uncle Stanford Pines, praying as it rang that the old man would pick up.

“Hello?” a gruff voice spoke on the other end.

“Um… hi. Is this Stanford Pines?” Dipper managed to ask. His heart was racing.

“Speaking. Who’s this?”

“It’s Dipper. Dipper Pines?” he said his name as though it were a question. “We met a couple years ago at the memorial service for my sister.”

“Oh,” he heard the old man’s voice darken. “Yeah. Hey, Kid.”

“Hey,” Dipper repeated. He’d never felt more awkward in his life. “Well, the reason I’m calling is… I need a favor. A really, really huge favor.”

“Uh huh.” His great uncle sounded unconvinced.

“The thing is… it’s Mabel. They found her this morning. Alive. My sister is alive,” Dipper said. He hadn’t intended to say that last part, but he liked hearing the words spoken aloud. “And she’s not doing well. I need your help. You’re the only family we have left.”

There was silence for a full minute before Stan replied. “What do you need, Kid?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting so long to write any of Grunkle Stan, you have no idea. I'm so excited for chapter five! Watch for it!


	5. One Awkward Minute Down

Dipper didn’t sleep that night. He was far too busy packing every single possession he could manage into the boxes that would fit in his car (thank god it was a truck) until he was satisfied. He called his employers and left a message telling them he was very sorry, but he was moving on short notice. He got on his computer and transferred all his classes at college to online ones, so he wouldn’t need to be on campus to continue his education.

He woke Mabel up at five a.m. so the likelihood of them encountering any other residents while they packed was slim, and she trailed after him back and forth from his apartment to his truck as he loaded the back of it, looking vaguely confused but asking no questions. Dipper wished she would find it in herself to speak. The drive was going to be difficult enough since he hadn’t slept in so long, and having someone to talk to while driving normally kept him alert.

“So, I know this is sudden, but we’re moving to Oregon,” he explained to her as he tied down the boxes in the bed of his truck. “We’re going to live with our Great Uncle. I guess you never met Grunkle Stan, huh?”

He didn’t know why he had expected her to do anything but stare blankly at him. Dipper sighed and continued, “Well, I saw him a couple years ago and he was okay. At least he’s agreed to take us in, so he can’t be too terrible, right? Come on,” he opened the passenger door for her and she crawled in. To his surprise, she fumbled with the seatbelt herself, attempting to do it, but her hands were so clumsy and weak that she failed. She looked rather upset by this as Dipper did it for her, and he had to chuckle a bit. “Don’t get mad,” he said. “You’ll get the hang of things in no time.”

Throughout the duration of the drive Dipper stopped several times at various gas stations, and Mabel would sit in the car, occupied by a picture book Dipper had bought at their first stop of the journey so she would be distracted when he left her alone for three minutes, as he sprinted inside to get a coffee or an energy drink and use the restroom. Mabel never made indication that she needed to go as well, but then, Dipper thought, she was only very slowly getting through the bottle of water he’d made sure she had before they left. He, on the other hand, was on the caffeine spree of his life, having ingested twelve cups of coffee and three energy drinks by the time they finally drove past the sign that welcomed them to Gravity Falls, Oregon.

“Well, twelve hours later and we’re finally here,” Dipper said, looking around as they drove through town. Stan had said the turn to get to his house was a tricky one, so Dipper was on the lookout. “What do you think?”

Mabel was staring out the window, flinching when she saw someone walking down the sidewalk past the car. She let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s not that bad,” Dipper said, though he wasn’t overly impressed himself.

The turn to get to Grunkle Stan’s was a tricky one. The sign that held the name of the road was long gone, and the only reason Dipper knew when to turn the sharp right that he did was thanks to the large arrow nailed to a tree advertising “Mystery Shack” in big block letters.

The shack was a few minutes down the bumpy road, and Dipper, though nervous, breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it. Twelve hours of driving after a night with no sleep was affecting him more than he was letting on.

Grunkle Stan’s house was a rather large cabin-like structure with two stories and a large porch that seemed to run around the perimeter. The roof had a few levels to it, and most of it was covered by an enormous sign reading “MYSTERY HACK,” as the S had fallen and was lying rather sadly near the roof’s edge. Dipper knew his great uncle had turned the place into a cheap tourist trap a while back, but it appeared Stan had mercifully closed up shop today in preparation for the arrival of his great niece and nephew.

Dipper pulled up in front of the shack and cut the engine. “We’re here,” he announced to his sister, who was already tugging at her seatbelt. “Hey, hold still,” he said, undoing it for her. Mabel fumbled with the door for a few moments until she grasped the door handle and pushed it open with her entire body. She got out and stood there, staring up at the house. She had a curious glimmer in her eyes.

Dipper got out after her, trying to clear the front seat of various cans and wrappers from the pit stops made along the way, stuffing the trash into a plastic bag. “Come on,” he said, beckoning to Mabel as he slammed his door shut. “Let’s go let Grunkle Stan know we’re here.”

 

Stan Pines had been in the attic, confining thirty years of clutter that had accumulated there to one wall, when he heard the sound of a car pulling up outside. That had to be them. Breathing in deep, he descended the stairs, nervously fidgeting with his sleeve cuffs. It was uncharacteristic of him to be nervous, but he figured that he had right to be. Primarily he was worried if Mabel would take kindly to him. Dipper had informed him of the situation at hand on the phone last night, and it had really shaken him – not that he’d let the kid know, of course. But seeing a pair of twins separated really affected him, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to help with their reunion.

He considered opening the front door and greeting his niece and nephew on the porch, but decided against it. Dipper had the right to try to introduce Mabel to him the way he wanted. So instead, Stan stood in the hall, waiting and listening.

He heard them on the porch, and then Dipper’s voice. “Okay, Mabel. You know we’re living with Grunkle Stan now, right?” A few moments of silence, and then, “You’re going to meet him in just a minute. And don’t be scared of him. I know people scare you right now, but Grunkle Stan won’t hurt you.”

Wow. The kid sure thought highly of him. Or maybe he was just trying to make sure Mabel didn’t fall apart when he introduced them.

Finally, it came. The knock on the door that Stan had been anticipating. He waited a few moments so Dipper wouldn’t know that he’d been listening before crossing to the door and opening it.

Jesus, Dipper had grown up. _Kid’s almost as tall as me_ , Stan thought fleetingly before he saw the girl. He’d seen plenty of pictures of her, all of them taken near the time she’d been kidnapped as a twelve year-old, and he never would have guessed this was the same child. She was rail thin and sickly pale, and her brown eyes held a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as she shrunk behind her brother, tugging at his shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dipper reassured her before turning to his uncle. “Hi.”

Stan had to tear his eyes away from Mabel. Poor kid… “Uh, hi.”

“Can we come in?” Dipper asked.

“Oh. Yeah, come on in,” Stan said, stepping aside so his niece and nephew could cross the threshold into his home. Oh, boy. One awkward minute down. Several ambiguous thousand left to go. “You kids find the place okay?”

“Well enough,” Dipper said, looking around. “The road sign’s gone. We’d still be looking if you didn’t have that sign for the Mystery Shack out.”

“Well… that’s good, I guess,” Stan replied. This was worse than he thought. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He sighed and pursed his lips, wondering what the heck he should do, when he felt an intense gaze on him.

Mabel was staring at him. He couldn’t identify the emotion on her face, but at least it wasn’t fear. She let go of her brother’s shirt and stumbled towards Stan, losing her balance.

Dipper watched in horror as Mabel fell forward, but she never hit the floor. Their great uncle had caught her in his arms, looking like he’d just suffered a great scare. Dipper expected Mabel to recoil in horror, but she shocked him by remaining calm. In fact, she seemed perfectly content with the situation she had found herself in, and as Stan propped her upright again she reached for his fez, batting at the tassel hanging off it.

“Oh, you like this?” Stan asked, lifting it off his head and placing it on hers. It was too big for her, and slid down her forehead until it nearly covered her eyes.

And then something extraordinary happened.

Mabel _smiled_. It was the first time she had smiled since Dipper had been reunited with her at the station yesterday afternoon, and he nearly fell over from the surprise. She was beaming up at her great uncle as her hands found the fez on her head and she lifted it just enough to see him. Then she turned to face Dipper and looked expectantly at him, like she wanted his opinion on her new look.

“It’s good,” Dipper gasped with some effort. He couldn’t believe it. A smile. It made her look so much more like the person she’d been when they were kids. “It’s really good.”

“Don’t go getting too used to it, Kid,” Stan chuckled, watching Mabel’s interaction with her brother. “I’ll be needing it back. It’s vital to the whole exotic Mr. Mystery thing I get going for the shack, you know?”

“I can’t believe you got her to smile,” Dipper said, dumbfounded. “I’ve been trying for the last twenty-four hours. She spends two minutes with you and suddenly she’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat.”

Stan shrugged. He honestly had no idea why he’d had that effect on his niece. Usually he scared people; he had expected a traumatized girl to be easier to frighten than most. “Guess it’s my natural charm,” he said jokingly, but his smile melted when he really looked at Dipper.

His nephew looked terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes and his every feature spoke of exhaustion. “How much sleep did you get last night, Kid?”

“None,” Dipper admitted, rubbing his neck. “I was packing until morning.”

At once Stan pointed at the stairs. “You need sleep,” he said in his best no-nonsense voice. “I’ve put a couple beds upstairs. We can figure something out later if you two need separate rooms, but I did the best I could on short notice.”

“Thanks, but Mabel—”

“Mabel can hang out with me. Isn’t that right, sweetie?” Stan looked at the girl, who was still smiling as she watched her brother and great uncle.

Dipper hesitated. On the one hand, he wanted sleep more than anything else in the universe at that very moment. On the other hand, there was Mabel to think about. Did he really want to leave her alone with a man he barely knew, even if he was family?

Dipper battled with his decision for several moments before he agreed to head to bed. After all, Grunkle Stan had gotten Mabel smiling already. Surely it would be fine to let him look after her until she fell asleep.


	6. Bedtime

Mabel’s eyes trailed after Dipper as he mounted the stairs, watching him disappear into the attic. She felt bad. She knew he was tired, but she couldn’t do anything to help him, except cooperate. She didn’t really understand why he had decided to bring her here, why they were going to live in the woods now. But she wasn’t unhappy about it. It was much better than staying where they had been, where there were noises and people that overwhelmed her.

The old man who they were living with now, Grunkle Stan, wasn’t unpleasant, either. In fact, Mabel rather liked him. There was something very familiar about him. He’d given her the interesting hat to wear at least, so that was grounds enough to like him. But she felt like she knew him from somewhere before.

She was trying to get comfortable in her own skin again, and she was making little progress. There were so many things she had just forgotten over the last seven years. How to maneuver a seatbelt, for instance. And she had lost so many words in the silence over the years that it hurt her to think about it. She understood pretty much everything that was said to her, though she didn’t think Dipper understood that. She wished she could bring herself to speak, but it was like her voice had left her. When she tried, no sound came out.

“Well, I don’t know what your brother thinks, but I know you understand everything pretty well,” Stan said from behind her, and Mabel turned to him, a bit shocked. It was like he’d been listening to her thoughts. “I don’t know what’s happened to you. You’ve probably been to Hell and back again. I’m sure you don’t want to think about it, but I’m going to say this now because I don’t know if your brother is going to let me watch you alone again for a good long while. Don’t forget what happened to you the last seven years. You hearing me, Kid?”

Mabel stared at him, her eyes wide. She didn’t understand what he meant. She didn’t want to be dealing with her memories for the rest of her life. She wanted to get rid of them. And why shouldn’t she? She’d certainly be happier.

“I get that it’s hard,” Stan continued, reading Mabel’s expression. “But every day it’s going to get easier for you. You’re going to get better. You’ll get used to living here and go wandering around when you do looking for things to do. And even if, one day, you get the chance, don’t forget. Don’t give up those memories. Because if you forget them you can’t use them. Without them… you’ll lose yourself.”

Something wet slid down Mabel’s cheek and her hand went to it. Huh. She hadn’t realized she was crying again.

Stan sighed. Jesus, he hadn’t thought what he was going to say was enough to make the girl _cry_. Sensing a meltdown, he closed the space between them and hugged her as Mabel broke down completely, her knees buckling so she collapsed into him. Stan guessed she’d done a lot of crying over the past couple days, and that she was still a few more good cries from the beginnings of okay. “I get it,” he told her, his heart twisting as she clutched the fabric of his suit jacket in her fists and sobbed into his shoulder. “I know.”

She took a good twenty minutes to calm down, by which time the poor thing had a serious case of the hiccups that would have been amusing if they weren’t so violent they appeared to be hurting her. “All those gulps of air you took,” Stan told her, making sure she could stand on her own before he let her go. “Come with me. Let’s get you some water.”

She followed him without protest down the hall to his kitchen, which he had made an attempt to clean earlier in the day. He hadn’t gotten much further than wiping down the counters and the table, but while the place was cluttered at least nothing was sticky anymore.

Mabel sat at the kitchen table and rested her chin in her hands as Stan found a cup and filled it with tap water. To be honest, he was a little bit dazzled by this girl. She wasn’t scared of him in the slightest, was she? He had expected there to be a long period of time waiting for her to warm up to him. He was pretty excited that they seemed to have skipped that part, but still… it was strange. Unless maybe…

Stan set the cup in front of Mabel as she hiccupped again, grimacing. “Drink up,” Stan ordered her, hating to see her so uncomfortable. “It’ll help a lot.”

She did, taking careful sips from the cup as Stan lowered himself into the chair opposite her. Stan watched her curiously. It was possible. Slim chance, of course, but possible. “Do you remember me, Kid?” he asked quietly.

She paused in her sips, looking up at him, and her lips turned up in a smile. Stan took that for a yes. “I’ll be damned,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “I know your brother didn’t remember. He thinks he met me at…” Stan trailed off, realizing he was about to admit to Mabel that they’d all thought she was dead and given up on her so much they’d practically held a funeral. “Well, that’s not important. Anyway, he didn’t remember me from before then. When I came to see you kids when you were real little. Four or five years old, I think. You were a couple tiny things.”

Mabel was still smiling at him from across the table, so Stan took that as an invitation to keep going. “I was just passing through Piedmont on the way back from looking at a possible attraction for the shack and stopped to visit for an afternoon. Dipper was running around your front yard and stopped for just a minute to ask your dad who I was before he went back to doing whatever it was he was doing. But you had that broken leg. Bright little pink cast. You looked so upset that you couldn’t play with your brother and you were moping on the porch watching him. I never saw a kid look so sad before.”

He could see it in his head as he spoke, as the memory was a very dear one. “I sat with you on the porch playing checkers and listening to you tell all sorts of stories,” Stan smiled at his great niece. “You were one adorable kid, you know that?”

Mabel grinned at him as she polished off her water. Her hiccups had come to an end, it seemed. She showed Stan her empty cup before setting it down.

“You want more?” Stan asked. Mabel considered his question and slowly shook her head. Huh. He hadn’t seen her do that before. He wondered if she’d communicated with Dipper that way or if this was the first time she’d responded with a clear yes or no, even if she wasn’t speaking yet.

Stan was out of ideas of what to do with her, so he decided to bring her into the living room and turn on the television. Mabel nestled into the couch, curling into Stan’s side and letting out what could only be described as a purr, as Stan surfed channels until he found something he thought Mabel might enjoy, a program called “Duck-tective.”

They watched it on low volume for a couple hours and Stan was starting to admit he liked the show when Mabel nodded off. “Hey,” Stan nudged her. “You wanna go to bed?”

She yawned exaggeratedly and nodded once, her expression adorably exhausted. Stan stood up and tried to help her stand, but it seemed that her weak legs combined with being so tired was preventing her from keeping upright. Stan sighed, knowing his back was going to be killing him for this tomorrow, before he picked her up. Well, maybe his back wouldn’t hurt him as much as he thought. The poor kid weighed next to nothing.

He managed to get all the way up the stairs with Mabel contentedly curled up in his arms and with some effort managed to get the door to the attic open with his elbow. He brought Mabel to the unoccupied bed on the right side of the room and set her down at its end so he could pull back the sheets for her. She crawled under the covers and fell into the pillows, her lips twitching up in a smile as she shut her eyes and Stan awkwardly tucked her in.

He let out a quiet groan and sat at her feet, waiting until her breathing evened out and he knew she was asleep. Dipper was dead to the world on the opposite end of the room, sprawled out and snoring softly. It amused Stan just a bit.

Well, the kids – he knew they were nineteen, but he couldn’t think of them as anything but kids – were in bed; he may as well follow suit. He stood up and, on an impulse, kissed Mabel’s forehead. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered, patting her shoulder before crossing the room back to the door.

He took one final look at his great niece and nephew, sound asleep, and mumbled a final goodnight before he shut the door.


	7. Cheer Up, Kid

Dipper jolted awake early the next morning, for a moment forgetting where he was and panicking because he wasn’t at home in his own bed. Then it hit him; he was in Oregon. Because Mabel—

Mabel. Where was Mabel?

Dipper sat up, vigorously rubbing his eyes, and looked around the attic room. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his sister in the bed on the opposite end of the room, curled up in the pink blankets and sound asleep. It looked like their Grunkle Stan had done a good job last night watching her until she was ready to go to bed.

He decided not to wake her. She probably needed as much restful sleep as she could get. He slipped on his shoes and crossed the room to the door, going through it and heading down the stairs. He was met by the scent of coffee and followed it into what appeared to be his great uncle’s kitchen. Stan was sitting at the kitchen table already, wearing boxers and an undershirt, his nose in a newspaper and a half-drunk cup of coffee sitting in front of him. He looked up when Dipper trudged inside. “Morning,” he grunted.

“Morning,” Dipper mumbled. “Any coffee left?”

“You drink coffee?” Stan asked, closing his paper and setting it down.

“I do when I’m recovering from all-nighters.”

Stan jabbed a thumb toward the counter. “Pot’s next to the sink. Help yourself,” he said, watching his great nephew shuffle to the coffee maker and pull a mug from one of the cupboards before filling it.

“How did things go with Mabel last night?” Dipper asked, opening the fridge and pulling out the milk before pouring it into his coffee mug.

“She was good,” Stan said vaguely. “Didn’t say anything, but I got a couple more smiles and some head shaking out of her. She even nodded at one point.”

Dipper paused as he put the milk away. “Hm,” he said by way of response.

“What?”

“That’s more than I’ve been able to get her to do,” Dipper mumbled. He couldn’t believe he was jealous of the old man. He thought it would be easier to get Mabel to open up, but so far she’d been totally unresponsive to him. But Grunkle Stan had gotten her to communicate and smile already.

Stan saw the change in Dipper and sighed. “You know, I think you’ve been underestimating her. She’s extremely perceptive, and she understands nearly everything you say to her, even if some of it does go over her head.”

Dipper considered that. He supposed he had been a bit… condescending. “You may be right,” he sighed, sitting across from his great uncle.

“So what’s the plan, Kid?” Stan asked.

“Well… she needs to get her braces off,” Dipper said. “And she needs clothes. I don’t have any for her. And they suggested getting her a physical therapist, but I don’t know how feasible that is out here. I’m honestly just happy she took so well to the move.”

Stan had to think for a while about that. “Clothes are easy,” he finally said. “There are places around town to get her those. The braces are going to be harder. There aren’t any orthodontists in Gravity Falls, but if we take her a couple towns over there shouldn’t be a problem finding one. The issue is getting her to stay still long enough without panicking while a stranger messes with her mouth.”

Dipper groaned. “You think I haven’t been freaking out over that? She’s going to hate it! Even worse, she’ll think I betrayed her for handing her over to some unfamiliar person she’s probably going to be terrified of!”

“Calm down,” Stan said sharply. “That’s not helping. Now, I know it’s not ideal, but there are options to consider here. Sleeping pills, for instance. Just explain to her what’s going to happen before she goes in. Like I said, she understands everything pretty well.”

Dipper let out a long breath. “You’re right,” he admitted.

“When do you want to take her in?” Stan asked, taking a long sip of coffee.

“It’d be best to just get it over with,” Dipper decided. “I’ll take her in today.”

Stan put down his mug. “I’ll drive,” he offered. “We can get her some clothes on the way back. Someone’s going to have to sit in the car with her.”

“Good point.”

“I’ve got sleeping pills around here somewhere,” Stan said, pushing out his chair and standing. “I’ll go hunt them down.”

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan.”

 

Upstairs, Mabel stirred from sleep, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She grinned, looking around the attic. She wasn’t in that closet anymore. She was free, staying in a cool house with her brother and Grunkle Stan, and they were going to make sure she never went back.

She needed to go to the bathroom, but she didn’t know where it was. The scary man had let her out every other day or so to let her use the bathroom, a small kindness in his otherwise cruel, sadistic nature. Well, he wasn’t there anymore to force her along the hall as she blindly stumbled and crawled when her legs gave up on her, unable to see anything with the blindfold over her eyes. She would have to find it herself.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood, wobbling on her weak legs. She made her way to the door unsteadily, managing to get it open on her first try. How long had it been since she’d opened a door?

She looked around once she got out, looking for another door, but there weren’t any. Just the stairs. Mabel sighed. She hadn’t gone up or down a flight of stairs on her own since the scary man had taken her away. It had been years. At Dipper’s home they’d taken the elevator, and Grunkle Stan had carried her up them last night.

She gripped the handrail and looked down the stairs, biting her lip. She didn’t like this. It was… scary. She was actually scared. The irony of the situation surprised her. She had been tortured for years, locked in a closet and beaten and used, and she was scared of a flight of stairs.

But she needed to find the bathroom.

Mabel took in a deep lungful of air and let it out slowly. She could do this. It was just a flight of stairs. It couldn’t be that difficult. She lifted one foot and lowered it onto the first step. So good so far. She brought her other foot down onto the same step, moving her grip down the handrail to keep her balance. If she could get down the rest of them this way, she should be fine.

It was smooth sailing for a couple more steps, even if she was moving at a snail’s pace. But then her foot caught on an upraised floorboard, and she squealed as the stairs rose up to meet her.

 

Stan was rummaging in drawers, looking for the bottle of sleeping pills he knew were stashed somewhere in the bathroom, when he heard the piteous wail and series of thuds coming from the stairs. Oh, no. “Mabel?!” he yelled, sprinting out of the bathroom.

Dipper was running down the hall already, nearly crashing into Stan as his uncle came shooting from the bathroom. They saw her at the same time, huddled at the bottom of the stairs with tears in her eyes, holding her scraped knee and grimacing.

“Damn it,” Dipper muttered, dropping to the floor next to his sister and pulling her hands away from her knee. “Here. Let me see,” he said to her, and she nodded, sniffling and wiping at her eyes.

“Must have been the floorboards,” Stan said guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt terrible. He had gotten so accustomed to his uneven stair boards that he forgot how unsafe they could be. “I gotta get those things fixed.”

“You think?” Dipper hissed, glaring at his great uncle and knowing at the same time it wasn’t really Stan’s fault. He had called his uncle and decided to move in on such short notice. He couldn’t expect that Stan would have been able to fix everything wrong with the house in only twenty-four hours. He was extremely grateful that his great uncle had let them move in at all, let alone how much he knew he had already done for them. Dipper was sure that yesterday morning the attic had been an uninhabitable mess, and Stan must have spent a lot of time and energy getting it to where it was now.

Dipper sat back and held his head. “Fuck,” he breathed.

Stan snapped his attention to his nephew, giving him a disapproving glare. “Don’t use that kind of language around your sister,” he said sternly.

“What am I supposed to do?!” Dipper all but screamed at him, more furious with himself than anything. But Grunkle Stan, at the moment, was the only outlet he had. “It’s my fault! I left her alone!”

“Calm down, Kid,” Stan ordered Dipper gruffly, leaning down to pick Mabel up off the floor. She stood next to him, swaying slightly with her mouth in a tight line. Her knee really hurt. “Come on,” he said, turning his attention to Mabel. “Let’s get you fixed up.” He steered her towards the bathroom and threw a glance at Dipper. “You coming, or what?”

Dipper sighed and picked himself up, following Grunkle Stan and Mabel down the hall and into the bathroom. Stan picked Mabel up and placed her on the counter before opening a cupboard and pulling out his rarely used first-aid kit. He stuffed it into Dipper’s hands and said shortly, “Take care of her,” before he went back to rummaging through drawers in pursuit of the sleeping pills again.

Dipper opened the kit and pulled out disinfectant spray and band aids. He uncapped the spray and knelt in front of Mabel, who seemed to be trying to hide her face behind her fists, examining her knee. It wasn’t a bad scrape, but it still probably hurt like hell. “Sorry, Sis, but this is going to sting,” he said to her, positioning the nozzle over her wound. She nodded and gritted her teeth.

Comparatively, the pain of the disinfectant was nothing to a lot of hurts she’d experienced over the years. But it was still uncomfortable.

As Dipper applied a couple band aids over Mabel’s scrape, Stan pulled a white pill bottle out of one of the cupboards and said triumphantly, “Found ‘em!”

Mabel looked at her uncle curiously, and he smiled at her. “Nothing to worry about, Kid,” he said reassuringly.

_Yeah, right_ , Dipper thought, putting the first-aid kit away.

 

After Mabel had managed to silently communicate she wanted to be left alone to use the restroom, done so, and come stumbling out the kitchen, Stan was microwaving oatmeal and Dipper was nervously fiddling with the bottle that had Mabel’s antibiotics with one hand as he talked on the phone to someone. He saw Mabel come in and quickly placed the bottle on the table before he retreated to the living room so she couldn’t hear him.

The microwave beeped and Stan wrenched it open (the microwave stuck frequently) and pulled the bowl of oatmeal out, sticking a spoon in it and putting it on the table. “Breakfast,” he announced, turning to grin at Mabel and his expression melting when he saw her.

She had shrunk back in fear, staring at the bowl and trying to make herself as small as she could, her shoulders digging into the refrigerator.

“Hey,” Stan said gently, approaching his niece. Her bottom lip was quivering and tears were threatening at the corner of her eyes. He approached her slowly so he wouldn’t startle her. “It’s okay, Kid,” he said, kneeling in front of her. He hoped he was sounding reassuring. “It’s food. Nothing bad. We’re not going to hurt you, okay? Ever. We wouldn’t do anything bad to you.” He looked directly into her eyes, making sure she was listening. “We, uh, we love you, Kid. You know that, right?”

Mabel started wiping at her eyes and nodded. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Grunkle Stan and Dipper. She did. But food had always been a source of fear for her, because when she was given anything substantial it meant she was in for a terrible ordeal later. The scary man wanted her to have enough energy to stay awake as he did things, awful things, to her.

Stan smiled. “There you go. Cheer up, Kid. It’ll be okay,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the table like he had last night, getting her positioned in her seat and letting her awkwardly take to the oatmeal. She grimaced as she ate, but it wasn’t because she disliked the taste. She was trying to repress flashes of memories of the scary man advancing on her.

Stan filled a glass with water and set it down in front of her. “Make sure you drink that,” he ordered. “We’ve got to get you hydrated. And you need to take your meds.” He picked up the bottle and examined it. He read what they were for and shuddered. “Yep. These are important.”

Dipper, in the meantime, was on the phone, in the process of explaining to the orthodontist two towns over Mabel’s situation. The man didn’t seem opposed to taking Mabel on as a patient, but seemed confused as to why Dipper wanted to bring her in while she was unconscious – or, at the very least, extremely lethargic.

“Listen, I don’t like it,” Dipper said. “But she’s been through a lot. She’s got serious post-traumatic stress disorder, and all her awful experiences are still fresh. So she’s going to be terrified if she’s awake. I just want to keep her from panicking and hurting herself.”

It took a while, but eventually he got what he wanted and hung up the phone. Dipper sighed. He hated that he had to do things like this. But in the long run, he had to do what was best for Mabel. He stuffed his phone in his pocket and went back to the kitchen to see how Stan was doing with her.

Mabel was eating the oatmeal Stan had made for her, but she didn’t look enthralled by it. At least she _was_ eating. Dipper shared a look with his great uncle and nodded at him as he crossed the kitchen to pour himself another cup of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included a drawing I did yesterday of Stan and Mabel because it is just so fluffy. I'm sure there will be more.  
> Originally posted on my tumblr (under the same pen name).


	8. The Stairs to the Attic

Dipper had never felt guiltier than he did as he watched Mabel swallow the sleeping pills. His only consolation was that she was taking them entirely of her own volition, after he had explained to her they were taking her to get her braces off and things would be much easier for her if she wasn’t awake for it.

Stan had been humming a tune of his own composition as he drove, and he looked at his niece and nephew in the rearview mirror. “How’s it going back there?”

Mabel was starting to slump in her seat, her cheek resting on Dipper’s shoulder. She made an incoherent mumbling noise.

“She’s nodding off,” Dipper said, in case Stan needed any elaboration. “How much further until we’re there?”

“My guess is five minutes,” Stan said, turning his gaze back to the road. “It would be two if this damn truck would go the speed limit instead of twenty miles under.” He laid on his horn and stuck his head out the open window. “MOVE!”

Five minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of the orthodontist. Mabel was fast asleep on Dipper’s shoulder and he was struggling to maneuver her into a semi-upright position. Stan got out and went around the car, pulling open the door and lifting Mabel out, carrying her in his arms like he had the night before.

Dipper went ahead, opening doors for Stan until they got inside and checked Mabel in. They had arranged it so they could be in and out as fast as possible, so there was no wait. Stan carried her in at once, setting her in the chair. Dipper sat down next to her and waited as Stan shuffled out, telling them he’d wait outside.

It took approximately an hour for Mabel’s braces to be removed, and Dipper sat next to her the entire time in case she happened to wake up. She didn’t, though, which was very lucky. When it was finished he struggled to get Mabel into the waiting room, where Stan was sitting. When he saw his nephew straining with the effort he picked himself up and rushed forward, sweeping her up in his arms again and carrying her out to the car, where Dipper opened the backseat and they laid her across it, awkwardly managing to buckle her in, before they got in and proceeded to the only market in town, where they could at least pick up some decent clothes for Mabel.

Dipper rushed inside and was quite amused to find a few too-large sweaters, and didn’t hesitate in adding them atop a pile of shorts, t-shirts, and underthings for her (which he threw into his cart blushing all the while). He purchased them quickly and sprinted back outside, chucking the bags into the back of Grunkle Stan’s car and clambering into the front seat, letting out a long sigh. “There,” he said. “That’s finished.”

Grunkle Stan shrugged and started the car.

 

When they arrived back at the Mystery Shack, Stan carried Mabel inside and into the living room, refusing to tackle the stairs again. He laid her in his armchair and threw a blanket over her before disappearing into the kitchen to make a phone call. Dipper sat on the floor of the living room and turned on the television, watching a show called “Baby Fights,” waiting for his sister to wake up.

 

“Soos,” Stan said into the phone after his handyman picked up.

“Yo; what’s up, Mr. Pines?” Soos asked cheerily.

“I got a job for you down here at the shack,” Stan explained shortly. He knew Soos wouldn’t need a lot of explanation; the man was always perfectly happy to perform any task he asked of him. “I know I told you not to come in for a few days because my niece and nephew moved in, but something came up. I need you to come in.”

“Oh, sure thing, Dude! On my way!” Soos exclaimed, and the line went dead.

Stan trudged back into the living room. “I’ve got a guy on his way to fix the stairs,” he announced.

Dipper looked up. He had been very close to dozing off. “Oh,” he yawned. “Good.”

“You should get some more sleep, Kid,” Stan advised. “Go upstairs and take a nap. You still look terrible.”

“Great. Thanks for that,” Dipper grumbled, but got up anyway. “Don’t take your eyes off of her, okay?” he requested before leaving the room and heading upstairs.

Stan watched Dipper go, his mouth in a tight line. That boy needed to learn not to worry so much. He shook his head and looked towards the television. “Hey, I love this show,” he grinned, heading to his chair and scooching Mabel over enough to sit next to her. In her sleep, she whimpered. Stan sighed. She wouldn’t be rid of nightmares for a long while.

 

“Whoa, Dude. Who’s that?” Soos asked loudly, walking into the living room unannounced and pointing at Mabel, who was still fast asleep next to Stan. She had shifted in her sleep enough that she was half lying on her great uncle, and Stan had made no effort to move her.

“Jesus, Soos. Be quiet,” Stan hissed, gesturing to his sleeping niece. “This is Mabel. Don’t wake her up.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s your niece, right? Sorry, Dude,” Soos rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled nervously. “So, what do you want me to fix, Mr. Pines?”

“The stairs to the attic,” Stan ordered, gesturing to them. “They’re a death trap. Mabel fell down them this morning.”

“On it.”

Soos disappeared into the hallway and soon could be heard whistling and hammering away happily on the stairs. Stan sighed and patted Mabel’s head a couple times. He was trying to fix something for her, even if it was just the uneven floorboards.

 

Mabel stirred from sleep two hours later, disoriented. Her mouth felt weird. She ran her tongue over her teeth, shocked to feel them smooth. She had no metal on her teeth anymore. Her braces were gone. She smiled and opened her eyes, looking around. She was back in the house her uncle owned, laying in his chair. Her pillow felt strange, and she couldn’t quite figure out why until she felt Grunkle Stan’s hand pat her head and heard him ask, “How are you feeling, Sweetie?”

She rubbed her eyes and sluggishly sat up, blinking heavily. She looked up into her great uncle’s concerned expression and grinned. He smiled back. “You look good, Kid,” he said, giving her head another affectionate pat.

“Yo, Mr. Pines, I’m done here,” Soos announced, coming back into the room looking pleased with himself.

Mabel recoiled, toppling over the arm of Stan’s chair and landing painfully on the hardwood floor, staring in mute horror at the unfamiliar intruder before she clapped her hands over her ears, squeezed her eyes shut, and started to scream.

“What happened?!” Soos asked wildly, looking mortified with himself. “What’d I do?!”

“Soos, just get out of here!” Stan shouted, swiftly getting to his feet and kneeling next to his niece, trying desperately to calm her down. “I’ll explain later! Just go!”

“What the hell is going on?!” Dipper’s voice yelled from the attic before the door burst open and he came sprinting down the recently repaired stairs. He stopped short when he saw Soos. “Who are you?!”

“Soos, go!” Stan roared, and Soos jolted and ran for it, shouting apologies and looking genuinely hurt and upset.

“Mabel!” Dipper exclaimed in a panic, hurrying to her side. “Mabel, it’s okay! He’s gone! Mabel!”

She was gulping for air and sobbing and shrieking, and nothing was working. Dipper was crying a bit himself. “Fuck!” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Grunkle Stan, what do we do?!”

“Just wait it out,” Stan shouted over the sounds of Mabel’s screams. He didn’t have a problem with Dipper’s language in general, but he still wasn’t sure he approved of Mabel hearing it. However, he felt now was not the time for a lecture.

It seemed to go on forever. Dipper had curled into a ball and buried his face in his hands, powerless to do anything else and Stan finally couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed Mabel and held her close, rocking his body back and forth and repeating the same words over and over again like a mantra. “You’re okay, Kid. Listen to me. It’s okay.”

Eventually her voice broke, after what felt like hours to Dipper and Stan. Her screams subsided and turned to heartbroken sobs, and Stan refused to let her go, continuing to rock her and whisper reassuring words in her ear as she clung to him and bawled into his shoulder.

At last, it stopped. Mabel was breathing heavily and shaking, and still holding onto Stan. The room suddenly seemed eerily quiet.

“What happened?” Dipper finally asked.

Stan sighed, squeezing Mabel just a bit tighter to him. He could feel her violent trembling and it broke his heart more than a little bit. “I got my handyman out here to fix the stairs, and, well… he doesn’t have a lot of common sense,” he explained, grimacing. “Soos walked in here, Mabel got scared, and you know the rest.”

Dipper groaned. “We’ve got to figure out how to prevent this from happening again,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I can’t take this again, Grunkle Stan. It’ll kill me if this happens again.”

“You think I like it?!” Stan asked accusingly, throwing a meaningful glance at Mabel.

Dipper shook his head. “Of course not. I just…” he sighed. “I’m tired. I’m just so tired already.” He looked miserable to admit it.

Stan pursed his lips. His niece had serious issues, but Dipper had them too, though admittedly on a much different scale. “Hey,” he said. “That’s what you’ve got me for, right?”

At last, Dipper cracked a weak smile. “Right.”

Mabel hiccupped.

Stan groaned half-heartedly. “Oh, man. Again?”

“What do you mean, again?” Dipper asked curiously.

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Stan waved his nephew’s question away. “Come on, you two,” he said, pulling Mabel to her feet. She still held onto his shirt with one hand, but seemed able to stand on her own well enough. Dipper got up as well, rubbing his head.

Mabel hiccupped again and grimaced, her free hand going to hold her chest. “Ow,” she mumbled weakly.

Both Stan and Dipper froze.

Stan spoke first. “Did she just say—?”

“—I think she just said—”

The whirled around to look at Mabel, who was still wearing a pretty miserable expression still. “Mabel,” Dipper said slowly. “Did you just… did you just talk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I'm very good at taking fluffy moments and ruining them with feels. Sorry about that. Anyway, watch for the next chapter!


	9. Look What I've Got

Mabel looked about as surprised with herself as Stan and Dipper did with her. She had stopped short, wide-eyed, looking as though something disturbing had just happened rather than incredible. She looked up at her brother and great uncle with her mouth agape.

“Mabel, you talked,” Dipper said incredulously.

She nodded, trying to find her voice again, but it seemed to have escaped her. All she got was a strange series of breaths before a coughing fit overtook her, interrupted by her hiccups. Why did those hurt so much?

“Let’s keep it moving,” Stan ordered, continuing the trek to the kitchen and indicating Dipper and Mabel should do the same. “The kid needs water.”

They followed, Dipper barely pulling his eyes away from his sister. It had been one, tiny word, but it made so much of a difference. She had found it in herself to speak for at least one short moment. Maybe soon that moment, that word, would turn to minutes and sentences and she’d be telling stories like when they were kids. Wouldn’t that be nice…?

Mabel sat in her usual chair at the kitchen table and waited as Dipper filled a cup with tap water and gave it to her. Her expression was one of great concentration as she attempted to speak again, but to no avail. She didn’t have it in her anymore.

“I think that’s all we’re going to get today,” Stan observed, looking sympathetically at his great niece. She was trying so hard. “But hey, at least it’s something.”

Dipper sat down next to Mabel, watching her gulp at the water. “You know, I don’t think that’s going to help your hiccups.”

She gave him a look that startled him. It was very similar to a look she had used often as kids when he was annoying her. It was usually accompanied by a _Shut up, Dipper_ , but for now the glare was extremely humbling.

But he was right, of course. If anything, her hiccups got worse.

“Eh, crying like she was for nearly thirty minutes can make a person thirsty,” Stan sad casually and shrugged, like he hadn’t just brought up the horrific and chaotic episode that had only subsided five minutes ago. Mabel swallowed the last of her cup of water and Stan took it from her immediately and refilled it. Handing it back to her he advised, “Go slower with this one, huh, Kid?”

She did as she was told, and after a while the hiccups ceased.

“Well, it’s still early afternoon,” Dipper said, leaning back in his chair. He looked at Mabel and asked. “Anything you want to do?”

She shook her head, to Dipper’s disappointment. He was hoping she would speak again.

“Mabel’s had enough excitement for one day,” Stan said firmly, pulling open the refrigerator and staring at its contents, which consisted of half a jug of milk, an apple, and a stick of cheese. He shut it and sighed. He didn’t bother looking in the freezer, knowing what he would find. An almost-empty box of frozen microwave tacos and a tub of ice cream. And the cupboards… the cupboards housed several cans of meat of ambiguous origin. He had nothing to feed the girl. Sure, frozen tacos were fine for him and Dipper, but his nephew had explained to him the renourishment process Mabel needed to go through, and none of the food he had fell under any category of food that she should consume. He sighed. “I need to go to the store,” he muttered, almost embarrassed by his lackluster collection of food.

Dipper looked up. “Oh, yeah, that reminds me. I’ve got a box of food in my truck.” He stood up and walked out of the kitchen without another word. Stan heard the front door open and shut not a moment later.

Stan sighed and looked at Mabel. “What are we gonna do, Kid?” he asked.

Mabel stared right back and offered a small shrug of her thin shoulders.

“That’s what I thought.”

The door opened again and Dipper came back inside carrying a box with macaroni and cheese, rice, cereal, peanut butter, and other staples from the cupboards of a college student living alone. “The rice is good for Mabel,” he said, beginning to open cupboards in search of a place to put the food. “And the applesauce. In a few days we can start her on simple proteins, but right now she’s supposed to be mostly eating carbs.”

“Rice for dinner tonight it is,” Stan said, though he still made a mental note to go to the store in town sometime in the next couple days so they’d be ready to start Mabel on protein when it was time.

Mabel finished her second cup of water and set it down. She pushed her chair out and got up, beginning to make her way to the living room.

“Where are you going?” Stan asked her, making to follow.

Mabel didn’t pause to give any indication of what she was doing, so Stan followed her while Dipper continued stocking the cupboards with the food he’d brought in the move.

 

Mabel had returned to the living room for the television, Stan quickly found out. She crawled straight into his chair and curled up in it, perfectly content, and reached for the remote, examining it carefully before pressing button that changed the channel. Amused, Stan watched her flick through a series of channels before deciding on an afternoon talk show with bright colors called “Why You Ackin So Cray-Cray?”

Stan shrugged and went back to the kitchen. She’d be alright on her own for a while.

“Hey,” Stan said, taking Mabel’s cup from the table and tossing it into his sink. “Did she have any hobbies she was particularly interested in before… you know.”

Dipper cringed. It was still painful to think about the day she was stolen. “Arts and crafts stuff, mostly,” he said. “Clay, crayons, glitter. She was really good at knitting, too. She could make an entire sweater in like, two or three days. A little longer if she rigged it to light up or something. Why?”

“It would do her some good to get back into something she likes,” Stan suggested. “Knitting, huh? You know, I think I saw a pair of knitting needles and yarn in the attic when I was cleaning up the other day.”

Why would there be…?” Dipper began to ask before trailing off. It wasn’t actually that surprising. There were all sorts of knick-knacks littered about the Mystery Shack. “Guess I’ll go look for them, then,” he said. “By the way, where’s Mabel?”

“Watching T.V. She’s fine,” Stan said, and Dipper nodded and left the kitchen. Stan heard him climbing up the stairs and leaned against the kitchen counter, sighing heavily. He had to get his life together for those kids. Mabel especially.

He looked towards the bag of clothes Dipper had gotten for her and shrugged, going over to it and pulling out the enormous sweater at the top of the bag. It was knitted, made with bright green yarn, and had an enormous sunflower on the front of it. Stan smirked and brought it into the living room. “Hey, Kid,” he said, catching Mabel’s attention and holding out the sweater so she could see it. “What do you think?”

Her face lit up and she squealed with delight, scrambling out of the armchair and running towards her great uncle, stumbling a bit on the way. She grabbed the sweater and Stan tried to help her as she pulled it over her head, getting a bit tangled in the sleeves, before she successfully pulled it on, grinning from ear to ear.

“It suits you,” Stan told her, his lips twitching upwards into a smile.

 

Dipper found what he was looking for in the seventh box he opened. The knitting needles were almost a foot long, blunt at the ends, and made of some mildly flexible material so they had a bit of give. Perfect for Mabel. The yarn, Dipper guessed, was at least several years if not a couple decades old, but still usable, in faded blues and reds. He pulled them out and bundled them in his arms before bringing them downstairs.

Mabel, who was now wearing one of the sweaters he’d bought her and looking extremely happy about it, was still curled in the armchair watching some talk show while Grunkle Stan sat at the table on the other end of the room, keeping an eye on his niece as he glued bits of taxidermied animals together to create new attractions for his tourist trap.

“Hey, Sis, look what I’ve got,” Dipper announced. Mabel looked towards his inquisitively. He crossed the room and dumped the yarn and knitting needles into her lap. “Remember this stuff?

Mabel picked up the knitting needles and stared at them. She did remember them, but not quite how to use them. She sighed and tugged on the loose end of one of the blue balls of yarn, watching it limply unravel. She looked to Dipper for help.

“Oh, boy,” Dipper said. “You don’t remember how to knit?”

She shook her head.

Dipper pulled his phone out of his pocket. “That’s what the internet is for, I guess,” he said. He called to Stan, “Do we even have wi-fi?”

Stan paused in his task of sticking an antler on a fish. “Uh… yeah. I think so. But I sure as hell don’t remember the password.”

Dipper looked at the list of networks and chose _Mystery Shack_. It asked him for the password. “Shit,” he muttered. “Did you leave a hint or something?”

“I dunno,” Stan grunted. “Now leave me alone. I’m working.”

Dipper sighed and pressed the question mark next to the password box. A hint popped up, but it wasn’t very helpful. It contained a question. _Why_?

Why what? Why did he need the internet?

Dipper groaned. May as well start guessing. _Ineedinternet_. Fail. _Needtoreasearchsomething_. Fail. _Thatsnotimportant_. Fail.

Frustrated, Dipper typed in an angry response. _Becausefuckyouthatswhy_.

Accepted. 

Dipper stared at his phone as it connected to Stan’s internet and then burst out laughing, startling Mabel. “Sorry,” Dipper apologized, though he wasn’t very sorry at all. That was the funniest thing to happen to him all week. Maybe Grunkle Stan was much more entertaining that he thought.

It took about twenty minutes for Mabel to reteach herself how to cast on, but from there she picked up knitting alarmingly fast. An hour in and she had a decent start to what Dipper assumed was a new sweater.

 

Dinner that night was a battle. Dipper made rice and Mabel refused to eat, sitting at the table and staring at the plate with a defiant expression. She was still knitting, her hands going so fast Dipper had to wonder if there was some sorcery attached to it. “Mabel,” he begged her. “Please. You’ve got to eat something.”

She would shake her head, give him a momentary glare, and return to her knitting. This process repeated several times over the course of a half hour until Dipper was so frustrated he could have started pulling his hair out.

Stan eventually trudged into the kitchen and saw his nephew and niece in a battle of wills at the kitchen table. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“She won’t eat anything,” Dipper explained in exasperation, holding his head. “Just… Jesus. I can’t do anything right with her.”

“Hey, Kid,” Stan barked at Mabel. She looked up at him. “Your brother made you dinner. You gonna snub your nose up at it?”

By way of response, Mabel ignored the question and returned to her knitting.

“See?” Dipper asked.

“Oh, boy,” Stan muttered. Guess it was time for him to play the bad guy.

Before Mabel knew what was happening, her knitting was gone, plucked from her hands by her Grunkle Stan. She made a squeal of protest and shot her head up. Her uncle loomed over her, holding her knitting needles and yarn high, far out of her reach. At once Mabel attempted to stand up on her chair in an effort to retrieve them from him, but Dipper stopped her. “Not safe,” he hissed, sitting her back down.

“You can have these back when you’ve eaten,” Stan announced, dropping Mabel’s project on top of the refrigerator.

She gave him a glare fiercer than he and Dipper had seen her give so far and crossed her arms, looking furious. Unfortunately, the picture of Mabel, a tiny thing in a too big sweater pouting in her chair was more adorable than intimidating, and Dipper let out a snort of laughter.

She held out for ten minutes before it appeared the desire to reclaim her knitting grew to be too much. She sighed, still glaring at her brother and great uncle, and took a single bite of her rice. She put down her fork and looked expectantly at Stan.

“Not gonna cut it, Kid. All of it,” he said, rather amused. It was frustrating, yes, but at the same time he was proud of his niece. She wasn’t going to let the world give her a whole lot of crap anymore.

Mabel made a disgruntled noise of frustration before she resigned, picking up her fork and eating her dinner with the angriest expression she could muster. Dipper let out a long breath and looked gratefully towards his great uncle.

Stan gave Mabel her knitting back once she finished the plate and she snatched it up and marched (or attempted to march; on her weak legs it was really more of an angry shuffle) back into the living room, where she proceeded to turn on “Ducktective” and curl up in Stan’s chair, knitting furiously.

Dipper shook his head, watching her from the doorframe. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan,” he said, as his great uncle joined him in the doorway, watching Mabel fondly.

“Eh, don’t mention it, Kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to put out more frequent updates, but life and school is getting in the way. But watch for chapter ten; it should be out int he next couple days.


	10. The Spooky Part of the Forest

When “Ducktective” ended and Mabel seemed to have forgiven Dipper and Stan for holding her knitting hostage during dinner, Dipper shut the television off. “It’s late,” he announced. “Bedtime, Mabel. Come on.”

She shrugged and got up, bundling her knitting in her arms and following Dipper into the bathroom to brush her teeth. They retrieved her bag of clothes and proceeded upstairs. He let her be alone for a few minutes to shuck off her sweater and change into what she was going to sleep in – he had found a nightdress for her with a save icon printed on the front, which the nerdy part of him thought was hilarious. When he went back in she was sitting on her bed, still knitting. “Okay, time to put it away,” Dipper said, and she sighed but handed it over to him. He set it on her bedside table. “I’m not taking it from you,” he told her. “But it’s time to sleep.”

He tucked her in and shut off the lights, waiting until he was certain she was asleep before he changed into what he was sleeping in and crawled into his own bed. “Good night, Mabel,” he spoke into the darkness of the room. He heard her shift in her bed and smiled. Just for the moment, things were okay.

 

“Dipper.”

Dipper felt something poking his cheek and swatted at it in his sleep. He mumbled a wordless protest and burrowed deeper under his covers.

“ _Dipper,_ ” the voice pleaded, and he felt his blankets being tugged down.

He groaned and opened his eyes. It was still dark, nowhere near morning, and Mabel was kneeling next to his bed, her eyes big and tearful. He shot up into a sitting position. “Mabel! You’re talking!” he exclaimed, and she cringed. “Oh… sorry,” he whispered. “Mabel, what’s going on?”

Mabel crawled up to sit next to him. “Bad dreams,” she whispered, curling her knees into her chest. Her voice wobbled. “The scary man...”

“Oh, Mabel,” Dipper sighed. “He isn’t coming back. You know that, right?”

She buried her face in her knees and started crying softly.

“Oh, god, don’t do that,” Dipper begged her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

She started wiping at her eyes and trying to pull herself together. After a couple of minutes she managed to stop, taking long breaths of air. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?” Dipper asked, and she nodded and crawled under the covers with him.

He was almost certain she’d fallen asleep again when she whispered, “Dipper?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Mom and Dad?”

Oh, god. He had half hoped she would never ask. He didn’t want to tell her, but he couldn’t lie. “They’re… they’re gone.”

She looked up at him, confused. “Where?”

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out the next words. “They died, Mabel.”

The room was horribly silent for a few moments. Mabel broke it, her voice cracking. “They’re never coming back?”

Dipper felt close to tears now. When it had happened he had been numb. The funeral hadn’t seemed real. It felt like any day they’d knock on his door and come see his new place wondering how he was doing. But now, telling Mabel, it finally hit him. They were gone forever. They would never come back.

“It was a car crash,” Dipper explained, trying to keep himself together. “It was just… instant. The truck crashed into them and they were gone.”

He heard Mabel sniffle and felt the covers begin shaking as her body started trembling with oncoming sobs. “When?”

“Just over a year ago.”

Mabel broke down, and Dipper couldn’t keep his composure anymore. He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, trying to reassure her as much as himself. The twins cried themselves out, Mabel crying until she fell asleep. Dipper finally stopped a minute later and wiped at his eyes. “Jeeze,” he whispered, looking at his sister’s sleeping face. He sighed. “I guess we’re both pretty alone, huh?”

She snuggled closer to him in her sleep and he shut his eyes, following suit.

 

“Well, isn’t this adorable,” Stan’s voice awoke Dipper, and he jolted, scrambling to sit up. Mabel was still asleep in bed next to him, and their great uncle was standing in the middle of the room, staring at them.

“Grunkle Stan! What are you doing in here?!” Dipper yelled, trying to get out of bed without disturbing Mabel and failing. She made a mumbling noise and opened her eyes.

“It’s almost nine o’clock. Mabel needs her antibiotics,” Stan said unapologetically. “What’s she doing in your bed?”

“She had a nightmare and wanted to sleep with me so I let her,” Dipper explained, getting out of bed as Mabel sat up and yawned. “And, um… last night I told her about our parents,” he said quietly, so Mabel wouldn’t hear him.

Stan’s expression softened. “Oh.”

Mabel stood up, rubbing her eyes. “Grunkle Stan?” she mumbled.

He froze, letting what had just happened sink into his mind. “Mabel… sweetie… you just talked. Uh… wow. Wasn’t expecting that again so soon.”

“Yeah. Freaked me out, too,” Dipper said. “The psychologist in San Francisco said she’d find her voice all at once when she was ready. I guess she needed a nightmare to snap her into it, which isn’t a good thing, I guess, but she’s talking again!”

Mabel shuffled over to her great uncle and grinned up at him. She didn’t say anything, but Stan was still a little awed by this new development of Mabel speaking when she wanted to, and he could think of nothing intelligent to say. “Morning,” he mumbled, giving Mabel an affectionate pat on the head. “You want breakfast?”

Her face fell.

“Yeah, figured as much,” Stan said sympathetically. “I’m still making you oatmeal, though.”

She sighed and turned away, going to the bag slumped on the floor at the end of her bed that held the clothes Dipper had gotten for her. She pulled out an assortment of clothes and then stopped. Looking to Stan, she asked, “Grunkle Stan, can I shower?”

“Yeah,” Stan grunted, still trying to get used to her voice as he began to head out of the room. “But after breakfast. Come on downstairs.”

Mabel’s mouth formed a hard line when she thought of food, but she bundled up the clothes she’d chosen and picked up her knitting. “Breakfast,” she muttered darkly before heading downstairs, leaving Dipper behind to change.

When he got to the kitchen Mabel’s knitting was on top of the fridge again and she was stabbing at a bowl of slightly overcooked oatmeal, looking none too pleased. “I don’t like food,” she sighed.

“Yeah, it’s freaky,” Dipper tried to make a joke as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “When we were kids you once ate an entire bag of cheese boodles without using your hands.”

Mabel stared at him for a moment, and Dipper realized his joke had fallen flat. “Things change,” she mumbled, scraping a spoonful of oatmeal out of the bowl and eating it, shuddering when she swallowed.

“I’m giving you two fair warning,” Stan said as he set down a glass of water in front of Mabel and handed her two of her antibiotic pills. “I’m reopening the Mystery Shack today. So Mabel, sweetie, if you don’t feel up to seeing people I’d steer clear.”

“What? I thought you weren’t opening for a few more days,” Dipper said as he poured milk into his coffee.

“That was the original plan, but that orthodontist sent the bill for taking Mabel’s braces off,” Stan grumbled, pointing to the envelope on the kitchen counter. “Greedy bastard…”

Dipper picked up the statement and dropped it. “Jesus! I thought it would only be like, fifty bucks.”

“That’s small town doctors for you,” Stan muttered, pausing when he saw Mabel’s expression. Her head was down and her bottom lip was trembling like she was about to cry. “Mabel? What’s the matter over there?” he asked, approaching her and kneeling so he was at her eye level. “You choking or something?”

“It’s my fault,” she whispered miserably. “Sorry.”

 _Fuck_ , he thought, kicking himself mentally for making a big deal out of the money in front of Mabel. “Hey, Kid, it’s not your fault. It was just something that needed to happen. It’ll be fine.”

Mabel sighed, but didn’t protest. “Okay.”

“That a girl,” Stan said, groaning as his knees popped when he stood up straight. Jesus, he was getting old. “By the way, Soos called this morning. He wants to meet you officially and, er, apologize for the scare yesterday.”

Mabel bit her lip. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dipper said quickly. “We’ll wait until you’re comfortable with it.”

“I should say sorry,” Mabel sighed, picking up her empty bowl and showing it to Stan. “Knitting?”

Her great uncle picked her knitting up off the refrigerator and traded her for the bowl. “Anyway, I’m going to need some help if we want to open shop by eleven,” Stan said, looking to Dipper. “I need you to go out and put up some signs in the spooky part of the forest.”

Dipper sighed, but didn’t argue. His great uncle was letting them stay at his house without asking for much in return; working in the Mystery Shack was the least he could do. Besides, the forest couldn’t be _that_ creepy.

 

Soos showed up just as Dipper was heading out, a stack of signs tucked under his arm and a box of nails and a hammer weighing down his pockets.

“Yo,” Soos waved cheerfully as he approached the shack. “What’s up, dawg?”

“Oh, hey, man,” Dipper greeted Stan’s handyman, adjusting his hat awkwardly. “Listen, sorry about that incident yesterday. My sister’s… a little messed up.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Soos brushed it off. “I can get a little intimidating sometimes. I underestimate the amount of power I have.”

Dipper laughed before he realized Soos was completely serious. “Yeah. Anyway, Mabel wants to apologize, but I’d be careful. Try catching Stan before you see her. Is that cool?”

“Yep. See you later, Dude,” Soos grinned, beginning to whistle an upbeat toon as he made his way into the Mystery Shack.

Dipper shrugged. Soos wasn’t going to be a difficult person to get along with, he thought as he made his way into the woods.

The walk was pleasant enough, if shadowy. The trees really blocked out the light. After several minutes of leisure strolling he figured he was far enough away to start hanging signs, so he chose a tree and positioned one of the arrows reading “To the Mystery Shack” on its trunk, stuck a nail into it, and hammered the sign in place. “One down,” he said to himself, walking a few more minutes until he reached a clearing with a large tree at its edge. “That’ll work,” he said, making his way to the tree and repeating the same process as he had with the last sign.

Only instead of the nail sinking easily into tree bark Dipper was met with the sound of metal on metal and the recoil was enough to make him take a step backwards. “What the hell?”

Dipper set down the signs and examined the tree. It appeared to have some sort of metal door attached to its trunk. Curious, he swept away some cobwebs and dust and opened the panel.

“Wow.” He stared into the opening at the two levers, his mind racing. Why would anyone put these here? And in such a quiet, boring place like Gravity Falls? Feeling like he’d stumbled into some science fiction plotline, Dipper pulled one of them. Nothing happened. “Maybe this isn’t as cool as I thought,” he muttered, testing the next one.

At once there was the sound of sliding metal from behind him and Dipper looked back to find a patch of the ground had opened up, revealing a box in the ground about a foot deep. Dipper approached it and crouched down.

A book, an old one, sat at the bottom. It was a faded maroon with obvious wear and tear, some of the pages clearly loose and not bound, and a magnifying glass not unlike a monocle was attached to the spine on a cord. The most curious thing about it, though, was the picture on the cover. A gold, six-fingered hand with the number 3 written on the palm.

Growing excited by his discovery, Dipper pulled it from the box and flipped it open. It was completely handwritten in a casually elegant scrawl, complete with notes in the margins with various colors of ink and elaborate, detailed drawings.

 _It's hard to believe it's been six years since[I](http://gravityfalls.wikia.com/wiki/Ford_Pines) began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon,_ Dipper read. “What is this?” he muttered. Strange and wondrous secrets? That didn’t sound like Gravity Falls at all.

He flipped through pages until one caught his eye. The words “Trust no one” were written urgently at the bottom, taking up half the page.

 _Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before_ he _finds it. Remember: in Gravity Falls there is no one you can trust_.

Dipper shuddered. “No one you can trust…” he repeated. He didn’t like the sound of that. And who was this “he” the author of the journal seemed so afraid of?

He stood up, still holding the open journal, and had enough sense to go back to the tree and pull the lever that hid the box he’d discovered the book in before shutting the panel and heading back towards the Mystery Shack, still thumbing through pages. The signs remained piled sadly in the clearing, completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one. I just saw the Last Mabelcorn (it destroyed me more than a little bit), and it is late. In summary, I am completely exhausted. And yet here I am, updating this fic for you. Because I care. Seriously, everyone, thank you for reading.  
> Watch for chapter 11 soon.


	11. You're Doing Good, Sweetie

“Hey, Mr. Pines,” Soos called to his boss, stepping into the Mystery Shack gift shop and finding no one. “I’m here for work!”

When he received no reply he passed through the door reading “employees only,” which led to Stan’s actual house. “Hello?”

He heard Stan’s voice from the kitchen. “Mabel, stay here for a minute, alright?” It was followed by a moment of silence and then he came into the hall. “You still want to see the kid?” he grunted at his handyman.

“Oh, yeah,” Soos said enthusiastically. Having such a deep rooted desire for Stan to see him as a son made him eager to meet some of Stan’s blood relatives and, he hoped with all his might, have them accept him. Baby steps.

“Well, come on in to the kitchen, then,” Stan said, gesturing Soos inside. “But not too fast.” He ducked out of the hall and Soos followed.

Soos had seen the girl only briefly the previous day, but he remembered her long brown hair and thin, pale frame. But mostly, he remembered the fear in her expression and then in her screams, and he went in cautiously in fear of eliciting a similar response.

Mabel was sitting at the kitchen table, knitting contentedly, with Stan watching carefully from his spot leaning against the fridge, ready to be there for emotional support if she snapped in a similar way that she had the previous day.

Mabel looked up when Soos entered, and while she shrank a little in her chair and a brief flash of fear flickered in her eyes, she didn’t panic. Soos waved. “Hey there.”

“Hi.” Mabel spoke cautiously. Looking back down at her knitting and turning red with embarrassment, she said, “Sorry for the screaming.”

“Nah, it’s cool, Dude. Sorry for freaking you out,” he accepted her apology willingly and grinned. “You look pretty okay to me now. What are you knitting there?”

“A sweater,” Mabel informed him, the corners of her lips twitching up.

“Sweet. You’re pretty good at that.”

“I like knitting,” she replied simply, and then almost as an afterthought mumbled, “It makes sense.”

Stan cleared his throat, commanding attention. While the exchange between his niece and his handyman was going well, he didn’t want to push it. “Soos, I’ve got some lightbulbs around the shack that need replacing. Get on it.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Pines, sir,” Soos gave his boss a half salute and then turned to Mabel. “We cool, dawg?”

She smiled back. “We’re cool.”

“Awesome!” Soos beamed, holding up his hand. “High five!”

Of all the things to happen next, Stan didn’t expect what did. He jolted as Mabel shrieked and scrambled out of her chair, sprinting to her Grunkle Stan and tugging desperately at his arms, whimpering. Her short and shallow breaths indicated she was about to have a panic attack. Soos recoiled, exclaiming frantic apologies at once. Stan held onto Mabel and groaned. He knew this had been a bad idea. “Light bulbs, Soos,” he ordered tersely. “Now.”

Looking miserable, Soos hurried out of the kitchen, mentally hitting himself for going for the high five. Why did he have to screw everything up?

Stan was trying to calm Mabel down before she had a full-blown hyperventilating fit, but he feared his attempts would turn out to be fruitless. She wasn’t doing well, and her every breath lasted only a fraction of a second. “You can get through this, Kid. Breathe, okay? You’re okay. You’ve got this. In and out, right? Inhale and exhale.”

She tried taking in a larger breath of air than she was ready for and ended up choking on her inhalation, coughing something fierce, which only made her more upset and tipped her over the edge into a complete panic attack. She had thought, for just a brief moment, it was getting better. That the scary man was only going to make an appearance in her dreams. But she had seen him, seen the flash of his arm raising just before he hit or whipped her, instead of Stan’s handyman raising his arm for a high-five.

It was awful. She felt like she was back in that closet, tied up and knowing the pain was coming but still praying it wouldn’t. Her prayers never worked. She couldn’t move, couldn’t try to get away. When she was gagged she couldn’t even scream. At least here she was free to run away and seek somewhere safe. Or someone safe. And since Dipper had gone out, Grunkle Stan was who she had.

Her uncle _was_ helping a lot. She was very glad for his arms and his voice, giving her an anchor to hold onto instead of going spiraling into the horrific vortex of fear and darkness where she could hear the scary man’s laughter and feel his abuse, never sure when it would come or where it would come from. She tried to do as Stan said, taking breaths in and out, but it was so difficult. Her breaths would hitch every few seconds and she’d fall apart all over again, trying to regain her composure.

“Listen to my voice, Mabel. Stay with me, okay? I need you to concentrate now. Do you feel this?” He was tracing a square on the skin of her shoulder with his finger. “When I trace up I want you to breathe in, okay? Don’t let it out until I start tracing down. Just keep that up, okay? Up, in; down, out. Come on, Kid. You can do this.”

It took her a few tries. The first time she breathed in and found herself unable to release it for fear she’d screw something up again before finally it escaped her and she was gulping frantically for breath again.

“Keep trying, Mabel. I believe in you,” she heard her uncle comfort her, and so she tried again. And again. And again. Until finally, she got it right, and after that her breaths came easier. “You’re doing good, sweetie,” Stan assured her, tracing the square more slowly with every success until she started breathing normally again, keeping it up a few minutes longer just to be certain her attack had passed, mumbling encouragements.

At last Mabel wrapped her arms around him in a hug, and he returned the gesture. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting herself stay safe for just a few more moments. “There you go, Kid,” Stan said, holding her a little tighter. He didn’t think he’d ever felt as protective of anything as he did of Mabel. “I’m proud of you.”

“I love you, Grunkle Stan,” she mumbled into his chest, because she truly did, and she felt like the words needed to be said. She’d been empty and confused when Dipper brought her to this house, but Stan had made her feel important and treated her like she wasn’t someone who was broken, unlike the police people who found her and the social worker who took her on and the doctor who looked her over. And even Dipper. Dipper had treated her like a little kid. But Stan had talked to her like a regular person. Stan had made things start to make sense again. And she loved him, not just for that but for everything that had happened since. It didn’t feel like she’d spent only two days at the shack. It felt like so much longer.

When Stan released her she seemed fine again, though he felt different. She’d said she loved him. It had been a long time since he’d heard those words directed at him. He’d forgotten how nice those words were to hear. In ways, Mabel was probably doing as much good for him as he was for her.

Trying not to get too sentimental, Stan cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So, what do you want to do today, Kid?” he asked.

She went over to her knitting, which had fallen on the floor in her scramble for her uncle after the scare, and smiled up at him as she started it up again. “Just this.”

Stan should have guessed. “Didn’t you want to shower?”

She looked slightly taken aback, like she’d forgotten she’d made that request. But she nodded, going back to the table and picking up the bundle of clothes she’d brought downstairs from the chair next to the one she’d been sitting in. “Let’s get that going, then,” Stan said, leading her out of the room and into his bathroom. “The controls are tricky,” he informed her, showing her the hot and cold knobs. “The wiring’s screwy. Cold is hot, and hot is cold. The cold knob sticks a bit, too; just yank it good and it should give. Any questions?”

Mabel shook her head.

“Alright. Good. Don’t flood the room,” Stan said, heading for the door and pausing before he went through it. “Your brother should be back soon. Just set up shop in the living room and I’ll come check on you in a bit.” On that note, he shut the door behind him and went to find Soos. As distant as he usually tried to act with his handyman, the poor guy deserved another explanation.

As soon as Stan shut the door Mabel yanked on the cold water knob, powering through the stick her uncle had warned her about to elicit a stream of hot water, and adjusted the hot water knob to cool the temperature of the water coming from the shower head to her liking. She hadn’t had a hot shower in seven years. Usually the scary man just dragged her into the bathroom and threw her into the tub, spraying her with blasts of freezing cold water and counting those as her showers, and she dreaded every moment of that ritual.

She crawled into the tub and stood beneath the water, breathing a long sigh of satisfaction. She had been certain she’d never feel the sensation of a hot shower again. She couldn’t stand for very long, though, on her weak legs, so after a few minutes she sat, enjoying the feeling on its own before she looked around. It had been a long time since she’d had a real shower, yes, but she still remembered the fundamentals. Shampoo, conditioner, soap. She found the soap easily enough, but was quite baffled for a few moments because she couldn’t find anything else before she peered at the floor next to the tub and found a bottle of nearly empty 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner.

The actual bathing portion of her shower lasted only a couple minutes. Kneading shampoo into her scalp felt odd after seven years, but certainly not unpleasant. Afterwards she sat in the tub, enjoying the hot water until it ran out, and she squealed and shut it off, having no desire to experience jets of cold water again in her lifetime.

She got dressed quickly, getting tangled up again in the sleeves of her sweater when she put it on, and left the bathroom with her hair still dripping wet and her skin flushed, but extremely satisfied.

Stan had gone to check on her when she was fifteen minutes in and been surprised to hear her still in the bathroom. But then, he figured, she most likely hadn’t had the luxury of showering in years, so he’d let her have her moment. Dipper had returned to the shack not long after, but he’d disappeared upstairs without as much as a hello.

Another twenty minutes later when Mabel still wasn’t out of the bathroom, Stan knew he was going to have to talk to his niece. So he sat in his armchair and waited. When he finally heard the water shut off, the shower had been running for forty minutes. Mabel came into the living room, looking very happy, a few minutes later. Stan hated to lecture her when she was in such a good mood, but he knew it was necessary.

“Mabel,” he started slowly, careful to choose his words. He didn’t want her upset. He only wanted her to be a little more aware, that’s all. She looked up at him, and his resolve almost melted to see the contentment in her eyes. He cleared his throat and continued. “I get that it must have been nice to have a shower, but you can’t sit in there for forty minutes, alright?”

Her grin was already wavering, but she didn’t look upset. She tilted her head inquisitively. Stan sighed. “I can’t afford for the water bill to run up a whole lot more than what it is now, okay, Kid? So you got a get out of jail free pass for today, but in the future keep the showers to five or ten minutes. Alright?”

Mabel pursed her lips. She hadn’t thought about that at all. She forgot that everything cost money, even water. She had gotten carried away, and she knew it. “Sorry,” she mumbled, feeling terrible.

Stan patted her head. “Hey, stop being so sad,” he told her. “I told you, you got a get out of jail free card today. Also, if you’re feeling up to it, uh… Soos would like another word.”

Mabel cringed. Another thing to feel awful about: scaring her uncle’s handyman with her episodes two days in a row. “Okay,” she mumbled, collapsing into Stan’s armchair and picking up her knitting.

Stan disappeared for a minute to retrieve Soos, and Mabel sighed. She certainly was doing an awful lot of things wrong lately. She could only hope she wouldn’t get any more horrifying flashes of the scary man and frighten Soos a third time.

 

It seemed the third time was the charm for Soos and Mabel. He came into the living room after Stan with his hands behind his back, very careful not to move his arms too much, and apologized again for freaking her out, to which she apologized for scaring him, and they at last reconciled. Stan didn’t give them time to converse once the whole thing was sorted out; he was too wary of something else triggering a strong negative response in his niece, so he sent Soos to try and figure out the screwy wiring in the bathroom, making sure Mabel would be okay on her own for a while before heading into the gift shop, donning his eyepatch on the way, and preparing the first group of tourists for his Mystery Tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad for Soos scaring Mabel again, but I figured it was appropriate given her state. And if I'm completely honest, I love writing Stan and Mabel comfort fluff. Also, I've been getting requests for Mabel flashbacks about "the scary man," so I hope this will pacify those for now...  
> Thank you for reading; watch for chapter 12!


	12. Wanting to Help

Dipper didn’t realize until Mabel came into their attic bedroom that he’d truly lost himself inside the book he’d found in the woods. Heck, he hadn’t even stopped to ask how his sister was doing before he’d gone swiftly up the stairs and sat on the floor at the foot of his bed, immersing himself in its pages.

The journal was intricate, filled with explanations and notes and elaborate drawings, all of things too fantastic and mythical to be true. And yet the approach was so scientific Dipper couldn’t help but believe in its contents. He spent nearly two hours captivated by its contents, reading every word and examining every picture, page after page. And he still wasn’t through when his sister came in.

When Mabel entered he quickly dropped the book and stuffed it under his bed, not entirely sure he wanted his great uncle to know he’d collected some secret buried book from the forest, but when Stan didn’t follow Mabel in, he pulled it back out. “Hey,” he greeted her as she sat down next to him. “How was your morning?”

“I took a shower,” she said, setting down the knitting bundled in her arms.

Dipper grinned and pulled teasingly at one of her still-damp locks of hair. “I can see that,” he told her, and she smiled back. “But that can’t be all you did.”

She picked up her knitting and showed him the considerable progress she’d made on her sweater. “This too.”

“That’s really coming along,” he commented. “Do you want to see what I was doing?”

She nodded and he set the journal in her lap. “Look what I found when I was putting up signs for Grunkle Stan. Cool, huh?”

She opened up the cover and ran a thin hand along the first page, over the words reading _Property of—_ that stopped where the page had been torn out. “What is it?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, exactly. It’s a journal, an old one. And it says all sorts of things about Gravity Falls. Weird things.”

“Weird?” Mabel repeated, flipping to another page. She giggled and pointed at the drawing of the gnome. “He’s funny.”

“Yeah,” Dipper smiled and nudged his sister’s shoulder. “What do you think? Gnomes and werewolves and creepy creatures – any chance they’re real and here in this little middle-of-nowhere town?”

Mabel grinned at him and gave him the book back. “Yes.”

He laughed. “I guess you would want that. You always were quick to believe in magic.”

“Are there unicorns?” Mabel asked, looking eager. He should have guessed. She had always been obsessed with unicorns when they were kids – seven years may have passed, but she had apparently not lost that. He supposed she hadn’t really been given an opportunity to grow out of that stuff.

“I’ll look,” Dipper promised, a bit blindsided when Mabel hugged him. “Hey,” he grinned, returning the gesture. “What’s this for?”

“You’ve been sad,” she mumbled, shutting her eyes. “But you’re better now.”

Dipper sighed, patting her shoulder a few times reassuringly. He supposed he had been a little sad. It was hard, adjusting to so many things at once. He’d gotten agitated sometimes, and exasperated. But things _were_ getting better. Mabel was talking again, he was getting along with Stan, and he had something to occupy his thoughts now other than the immediate problems his life had gathered up in the last few days. The mysterious journal was a welcome distraction.

“I wanted to help,” Mabel explained softly. She was squeezing him as tightly as her weak arms would allow. “But I make problems.”

“Hey, that’s not true,” Dipper assured her at once. She wasn’t crying, but she did have a tone to her voice that indicated waterworks may be on their way.

“I did it again,” she confessed, ashamed of herself. “I got scared again.”

“Scared? Scared of what?” Dipper asked, confused. He pulled away from Mabel and looked at his twin. She looked utterly humiliated. Had something happened while he was gone? Why had no one thought to tell him?

“Um… Soos,” Mabel said, almost forgetting the name of her uncle’s handyman. “I screamed. Grunkle Stan yelled at him.”

Her explanation really wasn’t helping him at all. She may have found her voice, but she still tried to make it so when she did speak, she conveyed what she was trying to say in as few words as possible. “Mabel, _what_? What do you mean? What _happened_?”

“Mabel?” They heard Stan calling from downstairs. “Where’d you go, Kid?”

“Up here!” Dipper shouted back, stuffing the book beneath his bed before getting to his feet and pulling Mabel up off the floor. “Come on,” he said, holding her hand and leading her down the stairs. “I’d like to know exactly what’s going on.”

They met Stan at the base of the stairs. “Huh. She slunk upstairs to find you, huh, Kid? What have you been doing the last couple hours?”

“Never mind what I’ve been doing; what the hell happened this morning?” Dipper demanded at once. “Mabel said she got scared again? Something about Soos, and yelling?”

Stan sighed. “How about we take this to the kitchen?”

They did, but Dipper refused to be distracted. “Why didn’t you tell me something had happened when I got back?” he asked.

“Well, you tore through here without a word and disappeared upstairs,” Stan pointed out gruffly, flipping his eyepatch up as he pulled a plastic glass out of his cupboards and started filling it up with tap water. “It was a little difficult to catch you,” he shrugged, taking a long drink. Those tourists were really running him down.

Dipper sat down, knowing Stan was right. “Alright. You got me. But I’m here now, so tell me what happened.”

Mabel piped up from her seat. “Grunkle Stan, can I have water?”

“Sure,” he said, pulling another cup out as he looked back at his nephew. “It wasn’t a big deal. Soos came in to apologize and it was going okay, but when he tried to high-five her she had some sort of… I don’t know, some kind of episode.” He filled the cup and set it in front of Mabel. “There you go.”

She grinned back at him.

“A high-five scared her?” Dipper asked. He looked to his sister. “Mabel, why did a high-five scare you?”

She took a long sip of her water, grimacing as she swallowed. “Bad memories,” she muttered darkly.

Dipper sighed. “I need more than that, Mabel, please. What kind of bad memories?”

She made a reluctant noise and set her cup down. “I… saw the scary man,” she whispered. “In my head. I saw him trying to… hit me.” Mabel buried her face in her hands, starting to shake. Her voice grew thick as she began crying. “With the belt… with the paddle…”

Stan moved towards his niece, but Dipper got there first. “Hey,” he said softly, kneeling in front of his sister with a hand on her knee. “Hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. You know that, right?”

She shuddered, biting her bottom lip and wiping at her eyes.

“He’s never going to hurt you again,” Dipper said. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. Okay? So you don’t have to cry anymore.”

She nodded tearfully and slid out of her chair, throwing her arms around her brother and crying into his shoulder. Dipper wrapped his arms around her, mumbling reassurances. Stan, watching their exchange, rubbed the back of his neck and set his cup down, ducking out of the kitchen back to the gift shop. It was nice to see Dipper finally getting more comfortable with Mabel’s meltdowns. She probably still had a few left in her before the week was out. After all, she had a lot to cope with.

 

When Mabel was all cried out, Dipper brought her into Stan’s living room and set her up in the armchair, returning to contentedly knitting while “Why You Ackin So Cray-Cray?” played on the television. Dipper figured she’d be okay there for a while, so he crossed over into the gift shop of the Mystery Shack, looking for Stan. His uncle was talking to a woman and her son, apparently trying to sell them a couple T-shirts. Dipper hung back, not wanting to interrupt. His uncle really was a fantastic salesman, he realized, watching the woman and her son wander away, shirts in their hands.

Stan saw Dipper and approached him. “How’s Mabel?” he asked.

“Better. She’s knitting, watching that weird talk show,” Dipper said. “I want to talk to you.”

“Make it fast; I’ve got another mystery tour to lead in ten minutes.”

Dipper sighed and rubbed his temples. “It’s just… I’m really worried about her, Grunkle Stan. She’s having nightmares. She’s hallucinating about the man who kidnapped her. Do we need to get her help? Like, professional help?”

Stan sighed. “Kid, I’m gonna level with you. I’d love to get her help. As much as I hate shrinks, one of them could probably help her work through her issues better than you or me. But the fact is, I just can’t afford to bring her to one.”

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. “Yeah… I know,” he sighed. “I’m just terrified I’m going to fuck everything up and she’ll get worse, you know?”

“You and me both, Kid,” Stan muttered.

“But you’re great with her.”

“I know a thing or two about dealing with trauma,” Stan said guardedly, which Dipper took as a warning not to ask more questions. “And for some reason, she seems to trust me.”

“Wish she trusted me like that.”

Stan rolled his eyes and rapped his nephew gently on the forehead. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself there, Kid. Mabel trusts you. She crawled into bed with you for comfort, didn’t she? She went to you for reassurance without hesitation back there in the kitchen. Just keep doing what you’re doing with her. You’re both gonna be fine.”

Dipper stared at his uncle. “Wow. That was oddly… sentimental of you, Grunkle Stan.”

Stan grinned wickedly back at him. “Don’t get used to it. Now, get back in there with your sister and make sure she doesn’t do anything too crazy with those knitting needles. I’ve got tourists to con.”


	13. Lake Afternoon

A week went by slowly. Mabel stopped having panic attacks, though she still suffered from nightmares and slept in Dipper’s bed with him more often than not. She still didn’t like eating, but since her diet had expanded to more than simple carbs, she wasn’t so reluctant to eat anymore. Stan mainly handled mealtimes with her, as he had no reservations about withholding her knitting from her until she’d eaten, immune to her pouts and glares.

Dipper learned how to work in the Mystery Shack, restocking shelves or running the register. He was extremely fond of Stan’s other employee, Wendy, a 22 year-old beauty with fiery red hair who had a penchant for plaid and seemed to live for making sarcastic comments to her boss. She was laid back and highly entertaining. Dipper could feel himself developing a crush on her, but he tried shutting it down as best he could.

By the time the week was out, Dipper had made his way through the entire journal more than once, and was convinced more than ever that the oddities logged in its pages were true. He started noticing things when he was driving into town or hanging up signs for the Shack. Strange footprints, weird sounds, odd shimmers and shadows where they shouldn’t be. He could have even sworn one night, when he was getting Mabel to sleep, he’d seen a fairy at their windowsill.

He came into the kitchen the morning he and Mabel had been at the Shack for a week and a half, his sister and uncle already in the room. “Morning,” he greeted them, heading straight for the coffee and pouring himself a mug. Mabel was seated at the table already, wearing her completed sweater and swinging her legs while knitting with a glass of water in front of her. Stan stood at the stove, scrambling eggs.

“Morning!” Mabel grinned, showing him her knitting needles. She’d started a new project. Probably another sweater. “Look, I finished it!”

“I can see that. It looks good,” Dipper commented. She’d knitted herself a blue sweater with a red heart on the front. It was very reminiscent of a sweater she’d had as a kid. He picked up the paper as he sat down, thumbing through it. Gravity Falls news was never very interesting, but it satisfied his boredom in the mornings. But this morning an ad caught his eye.

 _Monster Photo Contest,_ the ad read. _Submit a photo of a real monster or paranormal creature and win a thousand dollars_. Dipper’s thoughts went immediately to the journal upstairs, which catalogued all sorts of monsters and supernatural creatures. A thousand dollars would be nice. Maybe they could get Mabel a few sessions with a therapist if they had that influx of cash.

“Do you need me in the shack today, Grunkle Stan?” Dipper asked, already concocting some sort of plan. According to the journal, gnomes weren’t difficult to find. Maybe he could snag a photo of one of those.

Stan pulled the pan off the stove and set it aside, crossing to the table. He held out his hand to Mabel. “You know the drill, Kiddo.”

She sighed and handed over her knitting, and Stan dropped her new project on top of the refrigerator before putting a portion of the eggs onto a plate and set them down in front of her. “Actually, we’re closing down the shack for today,” Stan said, distributing significantly larger portions of the remaining eggs onto two different plates, passing one to Dipper and keeping the other for his own breakfast. He reached across the table and picked up the newspaper. “Figured we can have one of those, you know, family bonding kind of deals.”

“Um… okay?” Dipper asked skeptically. Grunkle Stan didn’t seem much like one for family bonding. “What did you have in mind?”

“It’s a surprise,” Stan grinned. “And don’t worry, it’s not too far away, either. Ten minute drive at most.”

“We’re literally going out?” Dipper exclaimed, highly unsettled. “Grunkle Stan, I hope you’re not thinking of taking Mabel out where there are people swarming all over the place. She can’t handle that yet.”

“Relax, Kid.” Stan whapped Dipper lightly on the head with his newspaper. “I’m not an idiot. We might run into one or two people, but I’m sure Mabel will be fine. We’ll have fun today, right, sweetie?” he asked his niece, and Mabel looked up from her plate.

“Huh?” she asked, not having been paying close attention to her brother and uncle. She was a little preoccupied with breakfast; she actually enjoyed eating eggs, so she was concentrating rather hard on savoring them.

Stan rubbed her head affectionately. He tried not to let it show too much, but he was relieved she had finally stopped fighting against eating. She was even taking to some of the meals he and Dipper gave her with a modicum of enthusiasm. “Family fun day, Kid. What do you say?”

“I guess,” Mabel shrugged, still sounding a bit confused. “Can I bring my knitting?”

“Leave it here,” Stan grinned. “With all the fun we’re going to have, you’ll forget about it quick enough. Now, finish your breakfast and get dressed, and we’ll head out.”

 

Stan was really not a good driver. Dipper had noticed it the week before when Stan had driven him and Mabel to get her braces off, but they had at least been on paved roads and Stan at least had other cars around him that acted as signals that he should slow down or back off or not be in certain lanes. Dipper had assumed his haphazard driving was merely an “old man who does what he wants” kind of thing, but now, as Stan drove them up a dirt road going far too fast for his comfort he began to wonder if his great uncle had problems with his vision that he hadn’t told them about.

“Grunkle Stan,” he said nervously after Stan took a sharp turn and sent him slamming into the door. Mabel crashed into him from his other side, letting out a small noise of discomfort. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but, uh – Jesus Christ!” he yelped as they drove over a bump that sent both him and Mabel flying a few inches off of their seats, wishing dearly he had something to hold on for dear life to. Screw trying to be polite. “Are you blind?”

Stan chuckled. “Nope, but these cataracts sure make it hard to see sometimes.”

Dipper wasn’t completely certain his uncle wasn’t joking as Stan squinted at something through the windshield. “What is that, a woodpecker?” he asked, just before the car flew through an ancient wooden fence that had apparently been intended to act as a guard rail for another sharp turn. Mabel screamed and Dipper shouted.

 _Definitely not joking_ , he decided, panicking as his great uncle narrowly dodged trees as they went speeding through the forest, no road in sight.

When the car at last came screeching to a halt on what appeared to be a beach, Dipper’s only thought was how grateful he was Stan hadn’t driven them straight into the lake. He thought the stop was to regain their bearings and assess damage to the car (as well as to poor Mabel, who was shaking violently in her seat), but as he stumbled out of the car after his uncle, Stan announced proudly, “Ta-da! We’re here!”

Dipper could only stare at his great uncle, who appeared tremendously proud of himself. “Grunkle Stan, you could have killed us.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t, now did I?” Stan grinned cheekily, peering into the backseat. “Come on, Mabel. It’s fishing season!”

Mabel shook her head, a look of terror still etched across her face. She had dug her fingers into the warped stuffing of her seat and seemed reluctant to release it. Dipper sighed and pushed Stan out of the way. “Come on, Sis. I don’t think we’re getting out of this one.”

“Why would you want to?” Stan asked, popping open his trunk as Dipper coaxed Mabel from the car. He pulled out three fishing poles and a lure box before proceeding to remove a fishing hat and jam it eagerly onto his head. “You guys are going to love this. It’ll be great!”

“I think there are better ways to bond than taking us on a car ride from hell so we can sit in a rickety boat for a few hours,” Dipper muttered, shutting the door and leading Mabel around to the back of the car.

“You’re exaggerating,” Stan rolled his eyes at his nephew.

Mabel still looked on edge, nervously fidgeting with the base of her sweater. Dipper didn’t blame her. “You really want us to go fishing?” she asked, biting her lip.

Stan seemed to realize Mabel was still shaken up, so he offered her a reassuring grin. “I know what’ll cheer you two up! Look at this!” He proudly pulled two fishing hats from the trunk and dropped them on Dipper and Mabel’s heads. “Pines family fishing hats!”

Mabel flinched and swatted at the unfamiliar object suddenly covering her head, and Dipper pulled his hat off to inspect it. The name “Dippy” had been sloppily sewed into it, which was slightly amusing since Dipper knew that meant Stan had to have actually tried his hand at sewing. Mabel’s hat had been modified in a similar fashion, though her name was spelled properly. She yanked it off her head and stared at it, and as she did the “L” at the end of her name fell off, hanging by a couple of threads.

“That’s hand stitching, you know,” Stan said proudly, shrugging on a fishing vest. “So, what do you say? Just you two, me, and those goofy hats on a boat for ten hours!”

Dipper and Mabel shared a look, grimacing. “Ten hours?” Mabel mumbled, kneading the fabric of the hat in her fingers. “I miss my knitting.”

“I SEEN IT! I SEEN IT AGAIN!” a voice screeched out from the dock, and Mabel jolted and scrambled behind Dipper, staring in fear at the frail old man with an enormous white beard wearing brown overalls and a patched up prospector’s hat racing up the pier. “The Gravity Falls [Gobblewonker](http://gravityfalls.wikia.com/wiki/Gobblewonker)! Come quick before it scrabdoodles away!”

Dipper initially went to comfort Mabel, but when the old man started performing what looked to Dipper like an aggressive jig he was understandably distracted. As Mabel watched the old man she seemed to decide slowly that he wasn’t someone to be feared, and she crept back to Dipper’s side. “What’s he doing?” she whispered.

“I think it’s some kind of excited… happy jig,” Dipper said, not quite sure what to make of it. He was just relieved Mabel wasn’t frightened of the strange old man.

“NOOO! It’s a jig of grave danger!” the man yelled wildly at them, and Dipper instinctively retreated.

“Uh, Grunkle Stan, who is this?” he asked, eyeing the crazy old prospector suspiciously.

Stan was watching the man with his arms folded over his chest, rolling his eyes. “Old Man McGucket. He’s Gravity Falls’ local kook.”

The door of the shack near the end of the pier reading “BAIT” on the sign burst open and a man came sprinting out. Mabel shrieked at the sudden appearance of another unfamiliar person and dove behind the car, shaking. “Shit,” Dipper muttered, following Mabel to try and reassure her as the man from the bait shack sprayed McGucket with a water bottle, yelling furiously, “What have I told you about scaring my customers?! This is your last warning, Dad!”

Dipper grimaced, hearing their exchange. “Jesus,” he sighed. Mabel looked up at him, a look of fearful inquisitiveness in her eyes. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “They won’t hurt you.” He stood up, giving Mabel a couple minutes to recover, and asked the old man, “Um, excuse me, but what is a Gobblewonker?”

McGucket looked almost relieved that someone seemed to believe him before he went to explaining. “It’s got a long neck like a gee-raffe! And wrinkly skin like...like this gentleman right here!” he pointed wildly to Stan, who had lost interest long ago in the man’s ramblings and was digging in his ear with his finger.

Stan looked confused to be suddenly referenced. “What?”

“It chawed my boat up to smitheroons, and shim-shammed over to [Scuttlebutt Island](http://gravityfalls.wikia.com/wiki/Scuttlebutt_Island)! YOU GOTTA BELIEVE ME!” McGucket begged, pointing out to the island enshrouded in fog in the center of the lake. The man from the bait shack – the old man’s son – started shouting at him again, calling him crazy and reprimanding him for telling insane stories and the like.

Dipper felt a tug on his shirt and looked down into Mabel’s unsure expression. “Is it safe?” she asked in a voice so soft Dipper almost didn’t hear her.

“Yeah. It’s safe,” Dipper assured her. He was a bit distracted. What if there was a monster on the lake? Even better, what if he managed to catch a picture of it? His mind wandered to the article on the monster photo contest he’d seen that morning. A thousand dollars was a lot of money. It could cover several therapy sessions for Mabel, and as he watched her stand up on legs that still trembled slightly, her eyes darting around mistrustfully, he was reminded of how much he felt she needed them.

“Okay, moving along. Nothing to see here,” Stan grunted, having grown tired by the delay. “Come on, Kids.”

Dipper took Mabel’s hand, leading her down the dock, passing boats tied to the pier of varying size and style, until Stan stopped. “Here she is! Neat, huh?”

It was a crappy old rowboat with a tiny motor that looked like it was in danger of falling off any minute. The boat had been patched up messily with spare bits of board and duct tape, and barely looked like it could hold one person safely, let alone three. On the side, Dipper could see the words “Stan o’ War,” that looked like it had been painted on years and years ago in sloppy, childish handwriting.

While it didn’t seem all that safe to him, Dipper’s mind was going at full speed. He was focused completely on getting a picture of that lake monster, and this was the only mode of transportation he had. “So, uh… Grunkle Stan, what do you say we change our plans and head over to that island? We could do some hiking. Some adventuring. Family bond that way.”

Stan scoffed as he tossed the fishing poles and tack box into the boat, seeing straight through his great nephew. “What, you think going on some stupid monster hunt for a thing that doesn’t exist is a good way to spend the day? Not buying it, Kid,” he said, jumping into the boat.

“You dudes say something about a monster hunt?” a familiar voice asked from behind them on the pier. Mabel jolted, but relaxed when Soos came up, a life vest already over his shoulders.

“Hi, Soos,” she greeted him, a little shyly. Since they’d finally had a successful encounter last week, she’d only seen the handyman in passing as Stan had manipulated it so their paths barely crossed, afraid of triggering another attack in her.

“What’s up, hambone?” Soos grinned, proceeding to the much larger, more impressive boat on the other side of their pier. The words at the head of the boat read “S.S. Cool Dude.”

“I think we’re going to the island,” she shrugged, pointing out to the center of the lake.

“Dude, you could totally use my boat for your hunt,” Soos offered, jumping into it. “It's got a steering wheel, chairs; normal boat stuff.”

Dipper grinned “Seriously? That’s awesome! Mabel, what do you think?”

She didn’t seem to entirely understand what was going on, but the displays of enthusiasm by her brother and Soos were getting to her. “Yeah!”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Dipper asked, looking over Soos’s boat.

“Mr. Pine told me I had the day off and I figured maybe I’d take the S.S. Cool Dude out for a day,” Soos beamed. “I didn’t know you guys were going to be out here, too.”

“Now, wait just a minute here,” Stan protested, realizing he was losing them. “Let's think this through. You kids could go waste your time on some epic monster-finding adventure, or you could spend the day learning how to tie knots and skewer worms with your Great Uncle Stan!” He grinned at them, looking very sure of himself.

Dipper didn’t fancy himself an idiot. Going with Stan meant spending anywhere from eight to ten hours fishing, an activity he found incredibly dull, and there was no possibility of snagging a picture of the lake monster. Soos was offering his much bigger, safer boat as transportation to the island where they had a good chance of getting a picture that could mean money to help Mabel sort through her issues.

The choice was obvious. Dipper hopped into Soos’s boat and helped Mabel up, and Soos untied the rope anchoring them to the pier and started it up. In less than a minute they were speeding off. “This is good,” Dipper grinned, watching as Mabel stumbled to the front of the boat and extended her neck, laughing as the breeze whipped her hair around her face.

Soos turned the boat back around a minute later, and Dipper, confused, went to ask what they were doing. “I forgot sunscreen, Dude,” Soos grinned and shrugged as he cut the motor and they drifted towards the pier near the bait shack.

“Oh… yeah. That could be important,” Dipper said sheepishly. He’d forgotten about some of the more minor necessities of spending a day outside.

Soos anchored the boat and hopped out, and Mabel sat down and sighed contentedly, grinning. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was massively tangled, but her eyes were shining. Dipper laughed to see her so happy. “Okay. I’ve got to run into the shop with Soos. Will you be okay out here for a couple minutes?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” Dipper clambered out of the boat and raced into the bait shop, going a little overboard purchasing disposable cameras for their quest. He was back in the boat in three minutes, stuffing cameras into his vest and anywhere else he could fit them. Soos came out a couple minutes later, sunscreen hanging out of his pocket and a whole barrel of fish food in his arms. “Soos, what did you do?” Dipper asked, rushing to help his great uncle’s handyman hoist it into his boat.

“I figured we could lure the monster out with this stuff,” Soos said proudly, toppling into his boat after the barrel. “Pretty smart, right?”

It was, in fact. Dipper couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that.

A few minutes later they were on course back to Scuttlebutt Island, and Dipper was explaining his plan. “Okay, we are on the hunt for a creature called the Gobblewonker. Apparently, it’s vaguely Loch Ness Monster-y and it was last seen on its way to the same island we’re headed to now.”

“Why are we looking for it?” Mabel asked. She was still sitting with her back to the side of the boat, rubbing sunscreen on her left leg.

“The goal is to get a picture of it,” Dipper said, taking the sunscreen from her and handing her a small bag he’d thrown a few of the cameras in. “And in quests of this nature, camera problems are the number one cause of failure. That’s why I bought seventeen disposable cameras. Here—” he handed Soos a bag identical to the one he’d given Mabel. “I’ve given four to each of you. I have the others in my various pockets. There is no way we won’t catch at least one decent picture of this thing. Mabel, do you want me to show you how to use them?”

She nodded, pulling one out of her bag. Soos pulled one of his to test it out, pointing it and shooting a picture – but the camera was turned the wrong way, and the flash startled him. He shouted and dropped the camera into the lake.

Dipper sighed, but wasn’t too upset by this. “See? This is why we need backups. We’ve still got sixteen.”

He supposed he should have known saying something like that would jinx it. Mabel shrieked and he whirled around to see what was wrong, and she was swatting at a seagull that was tugging at her hair. “NO!” she screamed, tossing her camera at it. It fled, and her camera followed Soos’s into the lake.

Things proceeded in much the same fashion. Two more cameras ended up in the lake. One ended up in pieces. Dipper was starting to panic. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and they’d already lost five of their cameras. “Guys! Okay, stop with the cameras. We’ve got twelve, okay? Let’s not lose anymore! Now, let’s get this mission in gear. Soos is navigation. Mabel can be lookout, and I’ll be captain.”

“What’s a lookout do?” Mabel asked, clambering to her feet.

“Watch for land at the front of the boat,” Dipper explained. He figured since when they got on the lake she had enjoyed feeling the breeze at the head of the boat she might enjoy being lookout.

She shrugged and proceeded to her position. “Okay.”

Unfortunately, as they approached the island Mabel got distracted by a pelican that had perched itself on the edge of the boat next to her, and they crashed into the island several minutes later, sending Dipper, Mabel, and Soos toppling to the floor.. The pelican squawked and flew away.

Dipper picked himself up. “Mabel, you were supposed to be on lookout,” he groaned, helping her up from where she’d fallen.

“Oops,” she mumbled, turning red.

“Well, we’re here now,” Dipper sighed, hopping off the boat. Mabel followed suit, stumbling a bit. Dipper steadied her. “Careful.”

“I’m okay.”

Soos got out of his boat, grinning. “Hey, look,” he said, walking up to the tree with the sign that read “Scuttlebutt Island” and using his arm to cover up part of the first word. “Butt Island,” he joked, and Mabel giggled.

A rumbling sound echoed across the island, and Dipper tensed up. “Guys, did you hear that?”

Mabel was looking around, suddenly fearful. “What was that?” she whispered.

She wasn’t the only one who was frightened. Soos was getting nervous too, his eyes darting around at the shadows the trees of the island cast. “I don’t know about this, man,” he stammered out. “Maybe this isn’t worth it.”

Dipper threw a glance at Mabel. She was shrinking in on herself, and as the rumbling noise came again she flinched and rushed towards her brother, tugging on his sleeve and looking around in terror. Maybe it wasn’t worth it after all.

Except for it was a thousand dollars. And it was for her.

“It’s worth it,” Dipper said firmly. “Come on!” He grabbed Mabel’s hand and pulled her forward, and Soos had no choice but to follow them. As they crossed the island, the sound got louder. Mabel squeezed Dipper’s hand.

The opposite end of the island came into view, and Dipper stopped short. “Look!” he hissed, pointing out at the lake. Through the fog he could see the shape of a long neck and head extending out of the water, and a few inches from it the shape of the body.

Dipper dove behind a log, dragging Mabel with him. Soos dropped beside them, peering out at the lake monster silhouette. “Wow.”

“Get your cameras ready,” Dipper breathed, yanking one of his from his pocket. Mabel fumbled with her bag and pulled out one of her three remaining cameras. Soos armed himself with the only camera he had left. “Okay,” Dipper said. “One… two… _three!_ ”

They leapt, Soos letting out a guttural war cry as they rushed towards the lake, cameras flashing. But as they approached it the fog thinned, and Dipper slowed to a halt and let out a groan. Their lake monster was a shipwreck – a shipwreck covered in beavers.

Mabel watched the furry creatures interact and grinned. “They’re cute!”

Dipper stared at the shipwreck in shock and disappointment. “But… but we heard the monster sound!” he protested weakly. He was so stupid. There was no monster. He had been fooling himself. The journal was a big hoax and he’d dragged Mabel and Soos out here for nothing.

Mabel tugged on his sleeve. “Look,” she said, pointing to the beach, where a beaver was gnawing on a chainsaw that was going off intermittently, making the rumbling sound.

“Sweet!” Soos exclaimed, snapping a picture of it. “Beaver with a chainsaw!”

“Damn it!” Dipper muttered, kicking a tree stump in frustration.

Mabel sighed and sat down on a log, tracing swirls in the dirt. “What are we going to tell Grunkle Stan?” She asked, looking a little sad. “We left him alone.”

Great. Now Mabel was sending him on a massive guilt trip on top of his disappointment. He let out a furious groan, kicking at a rock and sending it into the lake.

And then the ground shook. Mabel yelped and stood up, sprinting back to Dipper. He grabbed her hand and shoved her behind him, staring out at the lake. Something was rising out of it. Something big and dark. “Oh, my god, this is it!” he exclaimed, raising his camera again and snapping pictures, trying to follow the shape as it cut through the water. “Come on,” he muttered. He needed it to rise completely out of the water for a half-decent picture.

And then it did, so fast Dipper couldn’t follow it with his camera fast enough. Mabel shrieked and abandoned any thoughts of picture taking, flinging her bag of cameras at it and scrambling away. Soos tugged at Dipper’s arm. “Dude!”

“I need this picture,” Dipper insisted, raising his camera to the Gobblewonker’s head.

And _holy fuck, it was right in front of him_. Glowing eyes and long, sharp teeth. Dipper shouted in surprise and dropped the camera, bolting in the opposite direction.

“RUN!” Soos yelled, leading the charge. Dipper easily caught up to Mabel and grabbed for her hand to pull her along behind him, pressing her to run just a little faster. The monster behind them rose up from the water and gave chase, knocking over trees with its massive body and sweeping tail. As one fell, Dipper only barely managed to yank Mabel out of the way of its path, and she squealed as she fell over. He pulled her up. “Come on,” he panted, continuing the sprint.

“Back in the boat!” Soos shouted as the S. S. Cool Dude appeared on the bank through the fog. “Hurry!”

Dipper reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the camera, pushing Mabel forward so Soos could get her into the boat as he slowed enough to twist his body and snap a picture of the Gobblewonker. His foot caught on a tree root and he slammed to the ground, landing on his camera. He felt it break and cursed.

“Dipper, come _on_!” he heard Soos scream from behind him, and he scrambled to hit feet and all but leapt into the boat as Soos started it and they went speeding through the water away from the island as fast as they could.

Mabel raced to the back of the boat and watched the monster slip back into the water, still pursuing them. “It’s coming!” she shrieked.

It was faster than them, and Soos had to weave to narrowly avoid its furious swipes as it swung its tail up out of the water at them. At one point it struck a blow, taking the control cabin off Soos’s boat. Mabel wouldn’t stop screaming.

“Dude!” Soos yelled urgently. “Dead end!”

They were approaching the water fall and had nowhere to turn. This was not going to be good. He could barely think through the noise of Mabel’s terrified shrieks. The journal did say something about the waterfall. “Drive into the falls!” he shouted, praying this would work. “There might be a cave behind them!”

Soos screamed as they tore through the falls, water spilling over them and drenching them all to the bone before they crashed into the beach of the cave and went tumbling off the boat. Mabel yelped in pain, but her fall was softened when she landed on Soos.

They barely had time to recover before the Gobblewonker’s head came through the falls after them. Dipper threw himself over Mabel, trying to shield her as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting to feel teeth tearing at him.

They never came. He slowly opened his eyes and looked towards the cave entrance. The monster was stuck, flailing uselessly. “Thank god,” he let out a crazy laugh of relief, picking himself up and pulling Mabel to her feet. Her knees buckled immediately, so he put an arm around her to keep her upright. He pulled out his remaining cameras, but they were broken, all of them. “Damn,” he muttered. Mabel nudged at him, handing over her last camera. He grinned and hugged her before aiming it at the Gobblewonker and taking picture after picture.

“Did you get it?” she asked.

“Tons! And they’re all good!” Dipper beamed. This was going to happen. A thousand dollars, all for her. She could get better. He had so much hope in that moment.

The Gobblewonker reared its head back, slamming into the cave ceiling. Suddenly, its neck sparked and dropped limply to the cave floor. It looked dead, except for the sparking electricity still shooting off of its head. “What the hell?!” Dipper asked, racing towards it.

There was a hatch at the base of its neck. Dipper could hardly believe it. First they encounter a monster, and then it turns out to have some sort of hatch – making it a complete fake. Both furious and intrigued, he yanked it open. A cloud of steam poured out.

“McGucket?!” he shouted, staring in utter shock at the old man inside, nestled between blinking lights and screens displaying sonar views and topographical maps of the lake area. “Y-you _made_ this?! W-why?!”

The old man grinned sheepishly up at him and clambered out of the massive mechanical monster. “Well, I, uh… I just wanted attention.”

Mabel was watching the old man with fascination. “You made a robot,” she breathed, looking like her mind had been blown. It was the most shocked Dipper had seen her look so far.

“But _why_ did you do this?!” Dipper repeated. God, it was all a lie. There would be no money. Mabel would get no therapy.

He was frustrated enough to scream.

“Well, when you get to be an old fella like me, nobody pays any attention to you anymore,” McGucket said sadly, rubbing his arm. “My own son hasn't visited me in months! So I figured maybe I'd catch his fancy with a fifteen ton aquatic robot!” He laughed like a complete maniac, which disturbed Dipper, and then ceased abruptly.  In retrospect, it seems a bit contrived. You just don't know the length us old-timers go through for a little quality time with our family.”

“Did you talk to him?” Mabel asked softly, a bit abruptly. Dipper turned to look at her, a little shocked she wasn’t frightened anymore.

“Nope! I got straight to work on my robot!” McGucket grinned, ducking back down into his machine, leaving Dipper, Mabel, and Soos to stand and stare in shock.

“So much for that photo,” Dipper grumbled, rubbing his temples.

Mabel sighed and took the camera from him. “Do we have pictures left?” she asked.

“Probably about three fourths of that film roll,” Dipper said. “Why? What do you want to do with it?”

She grinned back at him.

 

Stan was having a terrible day. His niece and nephew had ditched him, there was nobody on the lake to mess with, and the fish weren’t biting. He couldn’t believe how mad he was. He had genuinely wanted to spend time with those kids, too. Mabel needed to get out and experience the real world and he felt like Dipper needed a day off. But what had he gotten instead was three hours so far on a boat alone wanting to break something.

“Grunkle Stan!” he heard a shout from behind, and he turned to see Soos’s boat, looking worse for the wear, speeding up to his. The engine cut so they drifted to his side. Mabel, now wearing the fishing hat Stan had given to her, waved at him and started clambering out of Soos’s boat immediately. Dipper yelped and moved to hold her back, but she was gone before he reached her, falling gracelessly into her great uncle’s boat with a force that nearly tipped it.

“Whoa!” Stan yelped, steadying the craft. “Mabel, you can’t do things like that—!”

He shut up when she barreled into him, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

And just like that, all his anger was gone. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her in return. “Yeah. It’s okay, Kid.”

“Permission to come aboard?” Dipper asked as he put his own fishing hat on his head, looking relieved Mabel hadn’t fallen into the lake. Stan grinned back at him. So they’d lost the morning. Maybe they could have a good afternoon.

“Let’s get back to the pier before we do any transferring,” he said. “Don’t want you pulling the same stunt your sister just did.”

The afternoon _was_ excellent. Mabel was extremely involved in letting Stan teach her how to fish, asking for his approval every three minutes. Dipper was the only one of them that actually caught a fish that day, but as he was taking it off the hook it started thrashing, slapping Stan across the face with its tail and escaping back into the safety of the lake. Mostly, they took pictures. Selfies, pictures of each other. Soos shot a photo of all three of them, Dipper grinning with his hand on Mabel’s shoulder and Mabel’s arms wrapped around Stan’s middle, beaming at the camera.

It was the happiest Stan had been in a long time.


	14. Insult Stan Day

“Dude, it’s been like, three weeks. Am I ever gonna meet you sister or what?” Wendy asked, lobbing a crumpled up piece of paper into the waste bin across the room.

Dipper was working the register in the Mystery Shack with Stan’s employee, Wendy, and she had been pestering him for a few days now to meet Mabel. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You will meet her eventually,” he promised, like he’d been promising since she started getting adamant about it. “But Stan and I just want to make sure she won’t freak out or anything when we introduce her to someone new.”

“Soos has met her,” Wendy pointed out bitterly as a customer approached the register. She checked the price tag for the snow globe and took the forty dollars owed for it. As the customer left she turned in her chair to stare intensely at Dipper. “I really don’t see the problem. It sounds to me like she’s been doing good for the last week. You guys even went fishing last Friday, right?”

Dipper groaned, rubbing his temples. He didn’t like it when Wendy got upset. He liked her far too much for his comfort, and he couldn’t help it. He kind of hoped she’d stick around for a while, and he did want her to meet Mabel. “I mean… yeah, but it’s still complicated. When she met Soos she had a full blown panic attack.”

“But she was still on edge then, right?” Wendy asked, waving at a customer that was coming into the gift shop. “If she’s so much better now, she’ll be able to handle meeting me. Besides, you’ve got to admit that I’m a lot less threatening looking than Soos.”

She was, but the idea was still off-putting. Mabel had seen plenty of people in passing over the last week, mainly tourists, as she hung around outside the Shack, following Dipper as he did minor gardening tasks when Stan ordered, but she’d still been nervous about them. She usually took to hiding behind her brother and trembling slightly until the tourists went inside. One woman had tried to talk to her, but Mabel had whimpered and run back into the Shack through Stan’s kitchen. When Dipper found her she was curled up inside her sweater in the living room, tears in her eyes.

So Mabel was getting better, but by slow degrees. Dipper wasn’t sure he wanted to introduce her to a new person quite yet, a person who would actually want to interact with her, talk to her, and expect her to not be frightened.

But Dipper _liked_ Wendy. He didn’t like disappointing her, and he didn’t like keeping his sister, who was at present the most important part of his life, entirely separate from her. So he gave in, briefly taking off his cap – Stan, in an odd moment of affection after their fishing adventure, had gifted him one of the baseball caps he sold in his gift shop last weekend – and running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he submitted. “I’ll talk to her and Stan tonight. If they’re both okay with it I’ll try to introduce you to Mabel tomorrow.”

She grinned back at him, looking extremely pleased that she’d gotten her way. “Yes!” he exclaimed, pumping one fist into the air in victory. Dipper tried to ignore how adorable he thought that was.

 

Mabel was finally on a normal variety of food, which was a real relief to both Dipper and Stan as they no longer had to worry about her just eating carbs or simple proteins or the like. They still had to be careful of her caloric intake, but that was simpler to track. It made mealtimes immensely easier, and she was looking better every day now that she was regaining a bit of weight. After closing up the shop that evening, Dipper proceeded into the kitchen to start cooking rice and some of the chicken Stan said he’d found at the market for cheap but Dipper got the feeling he might have stolen, but found his great uncle already at the stove, stirring soup. Mabel was sitting at the kitchen table, putting a few finishing touches on her new sweater, which she must have just finished earlier. It was missing sleeves when Dipper had seen her with it that morning.

“You get the shop locked up?” Stan asked Dipper as his nephew sat next to Mabel. After his last tour he’d decided to let the kid handle the gift shop, slipping off to go watch television with Mabel while she finished knitting that sweater of hers.

“Yep.” Dipper stretched out his arms behind his head and rolled his shoulders. He hadn’t thought dealing with tourists would be as infuriating as it was. He’d spent twenty minutes trying to explain to a woman that they only took cash, and she’d kept insisting on writing him a check. Eventually he’d gotten through to her, but he was pretty sure his eye had been twitching by the end of that conversation.

“Did you con some tourists?” Stan asked the question like he was talking about something as simple as the weather, and not his grossly overpriced t-shirts and trinkets.

“I did convince a few people to add a couple shirts to their purchases,” Dipper shrugged. “I wouldn’t exactly call that conning, though.”

But Stan was grinning at his nephew’s report nonetheless. “Atta kid,” he chuckled, shutting the stove off and pulling bowls out of the cupboards. “Give it a few more weeks and you’ll be as good of a salesman as me!” He glanced at Mabel, who was already setting her knitting aside. He’d stopped taking it away from her completely when she started willingly eating food, not wanting her to feel constantly punished, so now her knitting sat next to her during meals. “I’ll teach you to make a sale too, sweetie, when you feel up to it.”

She grinned back at him. “Yeah!”

“Speaking of feeling up to things,” Dipper piped up from his seat as Stan doled out soup into the bowls. “Wendy would like to meet you, Mabel.”

Mabel bit the inside of her cheek, looking a cross between curious and nervous. “Wendy,” she repeated. “Is that the woman with red hair?”

Mabel had seen Wendy a few times when she was shadowing Dipper around the yard, but the two had never exchanged words. Mabel was quite comfortable with Soos, however, and took great joy in his jokes and general clumsiness as he fixed various things around the shack.

“Yeah,” Dipper said. “What do you think?”

“Now hold on a second,” Stan interjected, passing out bowls of soup and seating himself at the table with his niece and nephew. “Wendy’s a sweet kid, but I don’t want Mabel doing anything she’s not completely comfortable with yet.”

“We can’t keep her shut off from the world and people forever,” Dipper pointed out, nudging Mabel’s knitting aside a bit more so he had room to put his elbow on the table. “Not to mention Wendy’s a girl. Mabel could use a female presence in her life.”

Stan paused, considering this before taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not wrong, Kid,” he sighed heavily. He looked up at his niece, who was listening to them curiously. “Your call, sweetie.”

Mabel nodded slowly. “Wendy is nice?”

“Very nice,” Dipper replied. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. He knew he had it bad for that redhead. And she was very nice, really. She cared a lot about Mabel already, and Dipper could tell just from her reactions to what he’d told her of his sister.

“Okay,” Mabel shrugged, resting her cheek in her palm as she scooped up a noodle from her soup and blew on it. She didn’t look happy, but she didn’t look scared either. Dipper took that as a good sign as he picked up his spoon and swirled the contents of his bowl around, watching steam rise from it.

“I guess it’s settled, then,” Stan said, leaning back in his chair. “Wendy can meet Mabel after we close the Shack up for the day. But I don’t want you introducing her to anyone unless I’m in the room, got it? I haven’t taught you how to properly deal with someone having a panic attack yet.”

“I don’t think she’ll have a panic attack,” Dipper rolled his eyes. He was certain Stan was just overreacting.

Stan glanced at Mabel, who had taken a mouthful of her soup and looked like she was experiencing pain quite suddenly. “Ow!” she squealed, snatching up her water cup and gulping at it. “Hot!”

Stan shook his head. “With Mabel, it’s usually better to be safe than sorry.”

 

Dipper and Stan went to great lengths to make sure Mabel was extremely content and happy all the next day. Stan made pancakes in the morning, and Mabel ate as many as they would allow her, and Dipper gave her a couple new balls of yarn – bright pink and yellow – and she got to work on a new sweater right away, grinning widely. Stan gave Dipper the day off, and the twins ended up playing whatever games Mabel wanted on the living room floor all day, mostly Go-Fish and War.

It worked. Mabel was all smiles and a general little ball of sunshine by the time Stan closed up the Shack and came in to tell his nephew and niece that he was bringing Wendy back. Mabel stood up when Dipper did, still looking very content, but still grabbed at Dipper’s hand for support.

Wendy came in looking wary with Stan trailing behind her. “Uh… hey, guys,” she offered Dipper and Mabel a half-grin and waved. “What’s up?”

“Mabel, this is Wendy,” Dipper said, a little tense, leading his sister forward towards his coworker and nudging her forward a bit. Stan stood in the doorframe, watching them while grinding his teeth a bit. He was concerned. He wasn’t going to try to hide it.

Wendy rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, that’s me. I’ve heard a ton about you, Mabel,” she said, glancing between Dipper and his sister. Mabel wasn’t doing anything. She wasn’t smiling anymore, just staring. But at least there wasn’t any fear evident in her features.

Stan wasn’t willing to risk it. “Okay, maybe we should try this again another day,” he started to say, moving into the room, but then Mabel’s face broke out into a grin.

“You wanna play cards?” she asked, pointing at the deck strewn across the living room floor. “With three of us we can play Old Maid.”

It was that simple. Wendy sat down with Mabel and Dipper and the trio spent the evening playing more card games, interrupted only once by Stan coming in and directing them to the kitchen for dinner, and afterwards they remained at the kitchen table continuing their games, and Stan joined in.

Wendy finally stood up when it was getting close to sundown and said she had to go; her dad had asked her to stop by his place on her way back to her apartment. “He probably broke the microwave again slamming it too hard,” Wendy rolled her eyes, and Mabel laughed.

“Will you be back tomorrow?” Mabel asked eagerly as Dipper stacked the cards in a neat pile.

Wendy winked back. “Oh, yeah. Every day. Your Grunkle Stan is one heck of a slave driver, let me tell you.”

“You’re the one who asked for extra hours,” Stan grunted from his seat, looking unamused.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for that, by the way,” Wendy grinned. “Gotta make rent somehow, right? Anyway, I really should get going. Fist bump?” she asked Mabel, and Mabel grinned and held out her fist, and Wendy tapped her knuckles against Mabel’s. “You working tomorrow?” she said to Dipper.

“Yep. Don’t think Stan would tolerate me slacking off two days in a row,” Dipper laughed, narrowly avoiding a light blow when Stan half-heartedly swatted at him with the newspaper rolled up in his hands.

“What is this, _Insult Stan Day_?” Stan muttered, getting up from his seat. “Get out of here if you’re going.”

Wendy laughed and crossed the kitchen to the door. “I get it. See you guys tomorrow!”

“Bye!” Mabel called, grinning and waving as Wendy shut the door behind her.

The kitchen was silent for a few moments before Stan said, “Huh. That went… surprisingly well.”

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Dipper asked, staring fondly at the door.

“I can see why you like her,” Mabel sighed happily, resting her chin on the edge of the table and yawning.

“What?!” Dipper jolted, rapidly turning his head to look at Mabel. “Like her?! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Mabel snorted. “Whatever, Bro-bro.”

“Okay, Kid,” Stan said, noticing Mabel’s sudden groggy demeanor. “You’ve had a long, exciting day. Go take a shower and get ready for bed.”

“Okay,” she sighed, getting up and trudging out of the room. Dipper heard her heading up the stairs to get her shower things.

“She’s so much better,” Dipper said happily, stretching his arms out. “I thought she was going to be a lot more wary of Wendy, but that went so well I’ve got to believe she might start feeling up to more people soon.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Stan said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “She’s a weird kid. She… she senses things in people, I’ll bet you anything. Wendy’s a nice girl. Mabel probably picked up on that.”

“She panicked with Soos, and he’s not a bad guy,” Dipper countered, though what Stan was saying did make a lot of sense.

“Soos startled her more than once. Not his fault. Not hers either,” Stan shrugged. “Some things just can’t be avoided.”

 

It was around midnight when Mabel started whimpering in her sleep. Dipper was still up, thumbing through the pages of the journal, trying to learn all he could. He’d stumbled across a colony of gnomes a few days back, and that set any doubts he may have had remaining about the journal’s validity to rest. He was reading up on a creature called “The Gremloblin” when he heard her first frightened mutterings.

“Oh, no,” he sighed, setting the book aside and getting up out of bed. He crossed the room and looked down at his twin, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. She was still having nightmares. “Mabel,” he said softly, reaching out a hand and lightly shaking her shoulder. “Hey. Mabel, wake up.”

She jolted from sleep and rocketed up, gasping for breath with tears in her eyes. She looked around wildly before her eyes settled on Dipper’s concerned expression, and at once she broke down, holding out her arms. “Dipper… He came back,” she sobbed as Dipper without hesitation met her embrace. “He came back…”

“Sshh,” he whispered, his heart aching. He hated that she had to suffer so much. The person who had kidnapped her, the scary man she hated to talk about, walked through her dreams nearly every night, turning them to nightmares. “He’s not coming back. He’s never coming back,” Dipper assured her softly. “No one’s going to hurt you again.”

 

Downstairs, blissfully unaware of the heartfelt moment the twins were sharing upstairs, Stan snuck into the gift shop of the Shack. The arrival of his niece and nephew had been a delay, but now that they were situated he felt confident he could start up his project again. He approached the vending machine, inputting the code he had countless times before that caused the machine to swing outward, revealing a hidden staircase. He descended them down to the elevator that would take him to the secret basement, deep below the Mystery Shack.

It was time to get back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like this required some mindless fluff. Watch for Chapter 15!


	15. Wax Man Uprising

A few days passed and Mabel started to get bored. She had run out of yarn to knit with and Dipper and Stan spent most of their time in the Shack, where she didn’t feel comfortable quite yet during business hours. Sometimes she followed Dipper around outside, but he was mostly working at stocking lately. Occasionally Soos would let her tag along as he did repair jobs, but most of them involved ladders and Stan didn’t want her anywhere near those.

It was Wendy who came up with the solution to Mabel’s boredom when Dipper told her how Mabel had taken to moping around the living room, staring out the window and sighing heavily every few minutes. She came to work with a stack of blank paper and a box full of crayons and colored pencils and went to find Mabel before her shift started.

“Sorry it’s not really that sophisticated,” Wendy shrugged, showing Mabel the contents of her box. “But hey, art is therapeutic, right? And it’s something to do.”

Mabel was overjoyed to have something to occupy her time, and for the rest of the week spent her days at the kitchen table, drawing whatever took her fancy. She was really quite good, Stan thought as he perused her drawings every night over dinner when she eagerly showed them to him. She was especially fond of drawing the inhabitants and employees of the Mystery Shack.

Dipper was just happy she had something to do when she couldn’t follow him around as he worked. Sometimes Stan would take breaks to sit with her at the kitchen table while she worked on art, and occasionally Dipper would sneak off to watch the odd episode of “Why You Ackin so Cray-Cray?” with her in the living room while she worked on knitting her sweaters. Wendy was fond of hanging out after her shifts and playing board games with her, and Soos would pop in to offer her gifts of bottles of glitter and tell her jokes that only the two of them found funny.

Dipper loved his days off from the Shack. It was nice to have all the pressures of work off, and he didn’t have to worry about Mabel because he could keep an eye on her. Stan liked spending his days off with her too, so on Saturdays they often found themselves in the living room watching whatever show Mabel wanted.

Today’s selection was a new episode of _Ducktective_. Stan was in his armchair with Mabel curled up next to him knitting, and Dipper sat on the floor picking at the shag carpet and commenting on the events of the show.

“Ducktective is so smart,” Mabel said as the show cut to commercial, untangling a knot in her yarn.

“It’s easier to find clues when you’re close to the ground,” Dipper shrugged, stretching out an arm. He hated to admit that he was fond of the show. It just seemed so ridiculous.

“You’re telling me you think you could outwit Ducktective?” Stan asked, nudging his nephew with his foot. Stan had made no attempts to mask his love of the show since he and Mabel had first discovered it her first night in the Shack.

Dipper turned around and grinned at his sister and great uncle. “Sure. I have very keen powers of observation. Just this morning I figured out where all the toothpaste has been disappearing to.”

“Oh?” Stan raised an eyebrow. “And where has it been going?”

“Mabel’s been eating it.”

Mabel looked sheepish. “It was so sparkly,” she mumbled, turning a little green. She’d been sick this morning from eating too much.

Stan sighed and rubbed her back. “No more eating the toothpaste, okay, sweetie?”

There came a loud shout from the hall and Soos came sprinting in. “Hey, dudes! You’ll never believe what I just found!”

Mabel looked confused. “I didn’t know Soos was here.”

“Eh, sometimes I can’t get him to leave,” Stan shrugged, getting up out of his chair. “Come on. Let’s go see what’s going on.”

Mabel set down her knitting and stood up as Dipper got to his feet, the three of them following Soos into the hall and to a door Dipper knew he hadn’t seen before. “Weird,” he said, looking at it curiously. “How did I miss an entire room?”

“It was hidden behind the wallpaper,” Soos explained, looking very proud of himself. “Bonkers, right?”

“Let’s go inside!” Mabel said eagerly, rushing forward and wrenching the door open, leading the charge. “It’s too dark to see anything!” she complained from inside.

Dipper followed her inside. “Is there a light switch in here?” he asked, running a hand along the wall.

“It’s okay, dudes. I’ve got a flashlight,” Soos said, pushing his way past Stan into the room and clicking it on. Mabel squealed and grabbed Dipper’s hand.

“Not real people,” Dipper at once told her, squeezing her hand reassuringly. He looked around as Soos shone the beam from his flashlight around the room. “It looks like some kind of wax museum.”

Wax figures were spaced all over the room. Dipper recognized more than a few historical figures. Mabel slowly proceeded into the room, staring intensely at the figure of Shakespeare. “They look so real,” she commented, reaching out a hand and poking the figure’s shoulder.

“Oh, hey, I forgot about this place!” Stan exclaimed, coming into the room and walking towards a corner, his hand on the wall. He found the light switch and flicked it up, flooding the room with light from a fluorescent bulb hanging on the ceiling that flickered every few seconds.

“I can replace that,” Soos offered, staring up at it.

“Behold the Gravity Falls Wax Museum!” Stan announced, proceeding further into the room! “It was a real popular attraction awhile back. Until I forgot all about it, that is. I had them all!” He began gesturing to various figures. “”Genghis Khan, Sherlock Holmes—” he paused at a wax figure Dipper recognized as Larry King, and Stan shrugged. “Some kind of, I dunno, goblin man?”

Mabel approached a figure of Lizzie Borden and pointed at her axe. “She looks mad,” she mumbled, pursing her lips. “What did she do?”

“You don’t want to know,” Dipper said quickly, leading her away from the figure. “Am I the only one creeped out by all of this?”

“My personal favorite was over here somewhere,” Stan said, heading towards the back corner. “Wax Abraham Lincoln, right over—Oh, no!”

Dipper and Mabel came up behind him to see what was so awful and stared at the melted glob of wax in a pile on the floor, beneath a direct beam of sunlight from the small window above it, the curtains pushed aside. “Who left the blinds open?!” Stan groaned, narrowing his eyes at another figure not far from them. “Wax John Wilkes Booth, I’m looking in your direction!” He sighed and held his head. “I don’t think I can fix this one.”

He felt a hand on his arm and looked down into the concerned expression of his great niece. “Grunkle Stan, are you sad?” Mabel asked. “Can I help?”

The corners of Stan’s lips twitched up and he patted her head. “Thanks, sweetie, but I don’t think so.”

“Hey, how about you let Mabel sculpt you a new figure?” Dipper suggested, the idea striking him abruptly. “She could use a new project.”

Mabel’s eyes shone. “Could I, Grunkle Stan?” she begged.

Stan rubbed the back of his head. He had one hell of a weakness for this kid and her pleading eyes. “You really think you can make one of these puppies?”

“Yes!” Mabel exclaimed, tugging on his sleeve. “Oh, please, Grunkle Stan! I promise I’ll try really hard!”

Stan grinned at her. “Okay, then. I like your gumption, Kid.”

“What’s that?”

Stan laughed and wrapped her in a one-armed hug. “Okay. Let’s get this wax somewhere you can work with it. I’m sure you’ll do something great.”

 

Mabel sighed heavily as she stared at the wax mound, lost as to what to do with it. Stan had let her set up shop in an old room he said he never used except for storage, and Dipper had helped her to push aside all the boxes against the wall so she’d have room to work. Now she sat on the floor, overflowing with creative energy but no idea how to make it manifest.

“How’s it going?” Dipper asked, wandering into the room with two cans of soda in his hands. “Any progress?”

Mabel groaned by way of response, looking sadly up at her twin. He sighed and sat next to her, passing her one of the drinks. “Here. I think it’s been long enough now and you can handle one of these.”

She smiled and struggled for a moment to get it open. Dipper offered to do it for her, but she shook her head, working at it until the tab popped. She grinned. “Got it.”

“Good job,” Dipper grinned, holding out his can. She tapped hers against it before they both took long sips. Swallowing, Dipper lowered his can and asked, “So, what are you thinking? You can do anything with this, you know.”

“Yeah. But I don’t know what to do,” Mabel groaned. She picked up one of the pieces of paper strewn on the floor next to her and held it out. “I thought about doing a horse, then a princess, and then tried to combine them, and,” she grimaced at her drawing, which was a rather disturbing hybrid of both her ideas. “It looks bad.”

Dipper didn’t argue, setting aside the drawing. “Maybe you should sculpt something from real life. Your life,” he suggested.

She contemplated this for a moment. “Like a waffle?”

Dipper laughed. “I was thinking you might want to do a person. Like somebody you know.”

“Hey, Kids,” Stan came into the room, looking around like he was searching for something. He was wearing the top of his usual Mr. Mystery outfit, collared button down shirt and suit jacket with tie, but his legs and feet were still clad only in boxers and socks. “Have you seen my pants? I can’t find them.”

Mabel saw her great uncle and giggled, looking back at the pile of wax. She smirked and mumbled, “I know exactly what to do.”

“Dipper, why’s your sister muttering at the wax?” Stan asked, and Dipper shrugged as his great uncle rolled his eyes and shuffled back out of the room.

 

It was late afternoon when Mabel came running out of the room, yelling for Soos. “Soos! Soos! I ran out of glitter!”

She found him in the old wax museum room, balancing on a ladder as he changed the lightbulb. “Oh, hey hambone,” he greeted her.

“Soos, I’m out of glitter!” Mabel exclaimed, looking distressed. “My statue is almost done but I ran out!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, dude” Soos grinned down at her, screwing the bulb in tight and climbing down the ladder. “I brought you some more glitter today but totally forgot to bring it in this morning. It’s in my truck.”

“Really?! Yay!” Mabel beamed, happily following Soos back into the hall. Dipper passed them as he came out of the kitchen. “Where are you two going?”

“Soos brought me more glitter!” Mabel explained, looking ecstatic. Dipper didn’t ask. He joined them in their trek outside and stared in shock at the bucket of glitter Soos procured from the bed of his truck.

“Soos, how much glitter did you bring her, exactly?” he asked, a little dumbfounded. Mabel was staring in adoration at the bucket.

“I don’t know. I walked past a craft store last night and they were selling this super cheap,” Soos grinned. “I thought, hey, you know who’d like that? This awesome dude,” he pointed at Mabel, and she held out her hand to bump fists with him. They had discovered in the past weeks she was fine bumping fists, but high-fives were still dangerous territory.

“Let’s get it inside!” Mabel begged, tugging Dipper’s sleeve eagerly. “I can finish my statue! It’s going to be so cool! And sparkly!”

Mabel led the trek back to the storage room, Dipper and Soos trailing behind her. She told Soos she wanted to dump the whole bucket over the statue, and before Dipper could tell her that might be a bad idea she was helping Soos heave the bucket up and they upturned it over the statue’s head. “It’s done!” Mabel shouted gleefully, running to Dipper’s side and admiring her handiwork. Dipper couldn’t help but be amused by her enthusiasm.

“It looks great,” he said, offering her his fist, and she rapped her knuckles against his.

“Let’s show Grunkle Stan!” she exclaimed, racing from the room. Dipper didn’t follow. She’d be back again, and soon. Stan wasn’t actually that hard to find; she wouldn’t need his help.

Sure enough, she dragged their great uncle into the room a couple minutes later, and he didn’t seem too enthralled. At least he had found his pants, Dipper noted. “Mabel, sweetie, I know you’re excited, but I’ve really got to find my shoes—” He stopped short and yelped when he saw her wax statue, toppling backwards and tripping over his feet in shock. He landed with a thump on the ground, and Mabel squealed.

“Grunkle Stan! Are you okay?!” she asked, dropping to her knees next to her great uncle.

He groaned and sat up, rubbing his lower back. “I’m fine, Kid.”

She let out a sigh of relief and sat back on her heels. “So what do you think?” she asked, gesturing to her statue.

Stan grinned and reached out a hand to affectionately pat her head. “I think the wax museum is back in business!”

 

Dipper knew Mabel didn’t care about having her statue seen by other people as long as he and Grunkle Stan praised her for it, but she went along with Stan’s grand reopening plans, helping where she could to clean up the wax statue room by dusting surfaces she could reach and holding the dustpan to the floor while Dipper swept. Soos was sent out to hang flyers around town and Stan and Wendy set up some chairs in three rows outside facing the Shack’s front porch for the event. Everything was ready and word was out within 24 hours.

The next afternoon Mabel sat at the counter in the Shack gift shop watching Stan’s opening ceremony through the window. She was still much too nervous to show herself in front of a crowd of people, though she had been insistent that she was able to see the people who came when her statue was presented.

Dipper was bribed with five dollars to take admission to their event along with Wendy, and they sat at a fold out table on the edge of Stan’s tiny dirt parking lot, stopping anyone coming to the Shack and having them ante up a few dollars to go further.

Stan proudly presented his new wax figure to the crowd when the chairs were filled.

Dipper had to admit, Mabel really was a damn good artist. She’d sculpted Stan from the wax, and except for the slightly crossed look to the eyes and the lopsided jaw (which was barely noticeable, really) the figure bore a remarkable resemblance to their great uncle. If she’d dressed it up and painted it instead of dousing it in glitter, it would have been scarily realistic.

The Q and A session was a disaster, but Dipper really hadn’t expected anything else from the citizens of Gravity Falls and his Grunkle Stan. The most interesting thing about it was Old Man McGucket’s question about the statues being alive and his chances of surviving the wax man uprising, before one reporter inquired about the free pizza Stan had promised on his flyers. Stan avoided the question the only way he could – by throwing down a smoke bomb and escaping into the Shack while everyone was distracted, making sure to snatch the box with the collected admission fees from Dipper’s hands before he did.

Dipper and Wendy tried to run damage control, but people were too upset to listen. Grass was torn up. A pole was destroyed (by Wendy’s father, an incredibly large lumberjack who went by “Manly Dan”). There was yelling. Chairs were thrown.

Twenty minutes later when the fury had died down and the crowd finally dispersed, Dipper retrieved the wax statue of Stan and headed back into the Shack to find the real Stan at the register with Mabel watching him, her chin on the counter. Stan was counting out the money they’d earned. “What a haul!” he said approvingly, stacking the bills in neat piles. “Look at all this! And I owe it all to one person!”

Mabel looked up hopefully, but Stan pointed at the wax representation of himself and said proudly, “This guy!”

“Grunkle _Stan_ ,” Mabel whined, and Stan flashed her a toothy grin and wrapped her in a one armed hug.

“Yeah, you little gremlin,” he said affectionately. “You did good, Kid.”

She beamed up at him.

“Let’s make dinner,” Dipper suggested, dragging Wax Stan towards the door that led to the living room. “It’s been a long day.”

 

After they ate the three sat in the living room, continuing their _Ducktective_ marathon until Mabel began yawning and rubbing her eyes. Dipper sent her off to get ready for bed and excused himself to go clean up the kitchen.

Tragedy struck not long after. Dipper heard a horrified scream coming from the living room and abruptly dropped the pan he’d been scrubbing and raced into the hallway in time to watch Mabel try to rush down the stairs and slip, falling down the last few steps. She made a noise of pain and accepted Dipper’s helping hand up before the pair sprinted into the living room to find their great uncle grieving over the now headless Wax Stan.

Dipper tried to keep Stan from calling for help, but somehow Stan still managed to contact the police, and before he knew it the sheriff and his deputy were knocking on the door and Mabel was scrambling back upstairs to avoid them.

Sheriff Blubs was a short, rotund black man with an impressive mustache and his deputy, Durland, was a tall pasty man Dipper didn’t think was too intelligent. They declared rather quickly that there was nothing they could do, but because Stan looked so destroyed Dipper offered to help solve the case. They laughed and brushed him off, calling the fact that he thought he could solve this so-called murder “adorable” before heading out again.

That comment really got under his skin, so much that the next morning Dipper had set his mind to finding the person who had decapitated Wax Stan and run off with his head. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot to go on. There were footprint indentations in the carpet, which were curious enough as they had a hole in the left shoe, and they led to an axe behind the couch – and that was where the clues ended.

Mabel suggested it was the lumberjack, and Dipper assumed she meant Wendy’s father, Manly Dan. He had to admit, it wasn’t a bad theory. He went into town to inquire, but Dan had a solid alibi and offered his axe expertise to the investigation – the axe Dipper had found was left-handed. Dipper proceeded to go down his list of possible suspects (everyone at the opening ceremony who had been denied free pizza) and found only one of them was left-handed – Toby Determined, who ran the town newspaper, _The Gravity Falls Gossiper_.

But that was a dead end too. Toby had an airtight alibi as well, supported by the timestamp on his office’s security camera. In the end, the day had been a bust, and Dipper drove back to the Shack and trudged inside to find Mabel sitting at the kitchen table with her colored pencils, dressed all in black. When her brother came in her face lit up. “You’re back!” she exclaimed, jumping out of her seat and going to hug him.

“Yeah,” Dipper said, hugging her back. “What’s going on? Why are you wearing black?” If there was one thing Mabel had always hated, it was wearing black. She preferred bright colors.

She pursed her lips. “Grunkle Stan’s being weird,” she informed him. “He’s having a funeral for Wax Stan.”

The thought was almost funny. “Seriously?”

Mabel nodded. “He’s been running around all day. I saw him at lunch and he said I should get dressed in black and tell you to get dressed too when you got back.”

Dipper sighed. “Oh, boy.”

“Mabel, is your brother back yet?” Stan came into the kitchen, looking solemn. He’d swapped out his usual tie for a black bowtie, making him look unusually formal. He saw his nephew and stopped. “There you are, Kid. Any luck with the investigation?” Dipper shook his head, and Stan let out a noise of disappointment. “Guess that’s it, then,” he sighed. “Go upstairs and get dressed. Funeral starts in ten minutes.”

 

The funeral was a sad affair. It was held in the room Soos had discovered and attended by Dipper, Mabel, Soos, and the several wax figures from the old wax museum all propped up in chairs. Stan stood at the front next to the coffin that contained Wax Stan’s headless body, eulogizing. Dipper couldn’t believe how upset his great uncle was. It was all highly irrational.

Mabel, however, seemed just as depressed as Stan, though Dipper assumed her sadness stemmed from seeing their Grunkle so destroyed rather than actually mourning over the wax figure. “Some people might say it’s wrong for a man to love a wax replica of himself,” Stan said, and Soos jumped to his feet.

“They’re wrong!”

“Easy, Soos,” Stan held up a hand. “Wax Stan, I hope you’re picking pockets in wax heaven.” At that point, their great uncle’s speech became too thick with tears and Dipper heard him say something coherent about glitter in his eyes before he ran out of the room. Soos ran after him, looking worried.

Dipper groaned and stood up. “Well, this has been fun and strange, but I think it’s about time we put this whole situation to rest.”

Mabel, however, stood up and crept to the side of the coffin. “Why does Grunkle Stan love this statue so much?” she asked, sighing as she looked down at it.

Dipper joined her. “Who knows? To be honest, I don’t think it’s just because you made it. It’s something else – I just don’t know what.”

“Do you think we’ll ever find his head?” Mabel looked up at her brother.

“I don’t know,” Dipper shrugged, staring down at Wax Stan’s body. As he did, something caught his eye. “Hey – he has a hole in his shoe.”

“Yeah,” Mabel said. “All the wax figures have those. It’s where the poles on their stand things go.”

Dipper pursed his lips. “Huh. That’s weird. That would leave those footprints I found in the living room. But… that’s totally impossible.” He was beginning to make connections, but even with all the crazy stuff catalogued in The Journal, living wax statues weren’t one of them. It couldn’t be. “That would mean the murderer would have to be—”

“Standing right behind you?” a voice with a thick British accent drawled from behind them, and Dipper and Mabel whirled around to face a roomful of now animated wax figures, all looking very angry as they rallied behind the speaker – Wax Sherlock Holmes.

Mabel gasped and grabbed Dipper’s sleeve, looking nervous. Dipper was actually shocked she was handling the situation so well. He’d expected another panic attack and a lot of screaming, to be honest. And while this new development scared him too, he was much more concerned about his sister.

“Are you magic?” Mabel asked anxiously, chewing the inside of her cheek.

“Magic?” Sherlock laughed. “Oh, no. We’re _cursed_.”

The wax figures made noises of assent as Sherlock Holmes continued, telling the story of how Stan had acquire them several years ago, and at night they would have reign of the Shack, perfectly content, until Stan closed up shop after the wax museum stopped bringing in money, locked them up and forgotten about them.

“We’ve been waiting ten years for our revenge,” Sherlock growled, reaching into his cape and pulling out Wax Stan’s head. “But we got the wrong guy.”

Dipper stared at the wax figures in horror. “You were _actually_ trying to _murder_ Grunkle Stan?!” he shouted, grabbing Mabel and pulling her protectively behind him.

“They’re creepy,” Mabel whispered.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “Enough of this. Now that you know our secret, I’m afraid we have to kill you.”

Abruptly the room’s atmosphere turned from tense to outright dangerous, and the wax figures began to advance, their eyes rolling back in their heads. Dipper expected Mabel to start screaming in terror, break down in fright.

She shocked him by doing the exact opposite. She screamed, yes, but it was an enraged sort of war cry rather than one of fear as she grabbed his hand and sprinted to the table on the wall that Stan had set up with a sparse selection of refreshments. Dipper was momentarily impressed with the amount of thought their great uncle had put into this funeral before Mabel began grabbing plates and forks and throwing them with all her might at the advancing wax figures. Dipper grasped the handle of the coffee pot on the table and flung it, hitting the wax replica of Genghis Khan. The figure screamed as he started to melt.

“Mabel, that’s it!” Dipper exclaimed, grabbing the electric candles off the table and thrusting one into her hands. “Melt them!”

“This will work?!” she shrieked, ducking as a wax Lizzie Borden swung her axe, barely missing Mabel and taking off Wax Robin Hood’s head instead. Mabel scrambled backwards and desperately swung the electric candle at the wax statue of Shakespeare as he reached for her, taking off his hands.

Dipper, in the meantime, was dealing with his own set of attackers. He decapitated a wax Larry King and sliced Wax Groucho Marx clean in half with his electric candle. The half-melted wax figure of Genghis Khan charged at him, but Dipper stepped aside easily and Khan ran straight into the fireplace, sealing his fate and melting completely.

Mabel had cut off Wax Coolio’s head and was swinging it around like a weapon as the wax figures overwhelmed her, the most determined look Dipper had ever seen on her face. She knocked over several of the figures coming towards her and as Dipper grinned proudly as he watched her, her expression transformed into one of horror and she pointed behind and squealed, “Look out!”

Dipper swung around and managed to take off Wax Richard Nixon’s leg with his candle, ending the figure falling to the ground, and Wax Sherlock let out an exasperated shout. “This ends _now_!” He deposited Wax Stan’s head on the horn of a rhino head on the wall and drew a sword from its display above the fireplace. Dipper swung his candle, but Sherlock knocked it from his hands, brandishing the sword above his head.

Mabel knocked Dipper out of the way just in time, and the sword hit the floor. Sherlock furiously turned back to Dipper, and Mabel snatched up the poker half-lying in the fire and threw it at her brother. He barely caught it, wary of the red hot metal end.

Dipper parried Sherlock’s swings, leading the figure out of the room and praying Mabel could handle herself with the rest of the wax figures. He was pushed into the attic by Sherlock’s attacks until an idea struck him and he scrambled out the attic window onto the roof. Sherlock pursued, shouting threats, and Dipper had to smirk. The sun was still out, though setting. He just had to pray it was still hot enough to melt a wax figure.

Sherlock cornered him behind the chimney, kicking him square in the chest and nearly knocking him off the roof. Dipper swallowed hard, suddenly uncertain of his plan. Was this really how he was going to die? At the hands of a wax figure of Sherlock Holmes?

Well, he supposed there were less interesting ways to go.

Growing cocky as he swung up his sword, Sherlock stepped into the direct sunlight, out of the chimney’s shadow, and the effect was instantaneous. Dipper watched in satisfaction as he started to melt, the sword falling from his hands as his fingers lost their integrity. Sherlock spat out a string of curse words as his entire structure liquefied, dribbling off the roof to the grass below. He looked down at the lawn, adrenaline slowly fading and the immense shock of what had just transpired settling in his mind. “Holy shit,” he breathed, sitting back and taking off his hat, running a hand through his hair. Then he paused. “Mabel.”

He made his way back to the attic window and crawled back inside, sprinting down the stairs to the wax figure room. He was impressed to find Mabel completely calm, tossing chunks of the wax figures into the fireplace. When Dipper came in her face lit up and she ran to him, wrapping him in a hug much like she had when he’d arrived home. “You’re okay!” she exclaimed joyfully.

He laughed and hugged her back, still shocked she was handling herself so well. “Yeah.”

“And you solved the mystery!” she grinned, pulling away.

“Couldn’t have done it without my sidekick,” he said, nudging her affectionately.

She scoffed. “No way. _You’re_ the sidekick.”

She looked so pleased with herself that he had to laugh, heading over to the rhino head and pulling Wax Stan’s head off the horn. “Whatever you say, Sis.”

“What the fu—I mean, hot Belgian waffles!”

Dipper burst out laughing as Stan came into the room. Their great uncle had started using the most random terms when he wanted to curse around Mabel, and he found them rather hilarious. “Hey, Grunkle Stan.”

“What happened to my parlor?!” Stan asked, looking more appalled than angry as he stared at the disaster of the room. Chairs had bene turned over, and there were puddles of wax everywhere.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel exclaimed, barreling into him for a hug. “Guess what! Your wax figures were all evil and they came to life, so Dipper and I fought them to the death and we won!” she informed him proudly. “I killed Shakespeare!”

Stan stared at her blankly. “Uh… that’s great, sweetie,” he finally said, hugging her back and looking at Dipper with an inquisitive expression. Dipper could only shrug in response. Stan probably wouldn’t ever believe what had really happened.

 

They helped Soos to clean up what had been the wax figure room before heading to bed, both of them exhausted from their battle with the wax figures. But before they went to sleep, Dipper wanted to talk to his sister.

She was crawling under her covers, looking very pleased with herself, and Dipper sat at the foot of her bed. “You did really great today,” he said.

She grinned. “I know! I was awesome!”

He smiled. “Were you even scared?”

She thought about his question. “I guess a little. I thought they were going to hurt you.”

Dipper stared at her. “They were trying to hurt you too, you know. You weren’t… worried for yourself?”

“Yeah. I was,” she shrugged. “But… they weren’t real people, you know? They didn’t try to lie to us. They just tried to kill us.”

She was so frank and matter-of-fact. Dipper didn’t understand it. “And that didn’t terrify you?!” he exclaimed. How could she be so frightened of regular people and not bat an eye when a bunch of wax figures tried to murder her? “So… are you like, not afraid of people anymore?

Mabel sighed. “I don’t think so. People… lie. They try to trick you. At least those wax guys didn’t try to lie to us. They weren’t… _human_ enough for that.”

And that was that for her, apparently. She rolled over and snuggled up beneath her covers. “Good night, Dipper,” she mumbled.

Dipper sat in silence, staring at her for a long time. That had been damn philosophical. He didn’t even know how to take it. At long last he sighed and stood up, turning of her lamp. The room darkened, illuminated softly by the glow of the moon coming from the window. He shook his head and leaned down, planting a kiss on Mabel’s forehead. “Good night, Sis,” he whispered, and saw her smile as she drifted off before he crossed the room and crawled into his own bed.

Mabel certainly was a strange one. He was completely blown away by her courage and her logic. And he was so, so very proud to call her his sister.


	16. Little Ol' Problems

Stan groaned and sat back in his chair, staring through the window at the large skeleton of metal in the cavernous basement room of the Shack. He had at last fixed the structure of the machine, but was still clueless as to how to make it work. There was something missing, and even after thirty years of study and experimentation, he was still lost as for what to try next.

It had been a difficult past few days for him. When he’d seen Mabel’s wax recreation of him it had been a true shock to his system, and not just because the girl was a spectacular artist. For just a brief moment in his confusion he thought that… just maybe…

But no. Impossible. He hadn’t gotten the machine working yet – there was no possible way for him to be back.

“Jesus,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. He needed instructions, but had no hope of finding them. If he hadn’t after thirty years, he had little hope he would ever get them.

His mind wandered to the kids, fast asleep in the attic and none the wiser to his after-hours project in the basement. He had thought about telling Dipper about the machine, but decided against it. He was stressed enough as it was, what with his sister to deal with, and if Stan was really honest with himself, he was afraid Dipper wouldn’t like it and press him to shut it down. But he’d come too far after thirty years to even consider it.

The kids would find out when they needed to. Hell, if he couldn’t get it running – a thought he hated to consider – they wouldn’t ever need to know.

 

It was two weeks after the wax statue incident that Mabel made a most surprising announcement over breakfast.

“I want to work in the Shack,” she said casually as she swirled the milk in her cereal bowl, watching the cheerios get caught in her tiny whirlpool.

Dipper fumbled with his own spoon at her statement, more than a little appalled. “Mabel, are you sure you’re ready for that?” he asked skeptically.

“It’s boring around the house all alone,” she informed him indignantly. “I want to do something. I want to be with you and Grunkle Stan.”

“But… Mabel, that’s a lot more people… strangers…” Dipper spluttered until Stan interrupted.

“If you want to try to work in the Shack that’s fine,” their great uncle said, pouring himself his second cup of coffee. “Just don’t overdo it, sweetie. If you feel overwhelmed I want you to come back to the house, and if someone scares you just let me know. I’ll deal with them.”

“Grunkle Stan, are you sure that this is the best idea?” Dipper asked.

Stan shrugged. “I know there’s a bunch of legal crap and whatnot involved with your sister, but she’s still an adult. She can do what she wants. And so far she’s been pretty good at knowing what’s best for her and when.” He took a long swig from his coffee mug before grinning at Mabel. “I’ll train you up, Kid. Let’s con some tourists. With your cute face I’m sure you’ll be a natural at it.”

 

Mabel had to wait a day before she started. Stan trained her on the register after he’d closed up for the night, and was very pleased with how fast she picked it up, though he noted her arithmetic needed work. He managed to find a pocket calculator for her that she could use, but made a mental note to start her on some kind of re-education track over the next few days.

He let her work with Wendy the next day, and Mabel shocked everyone with her demeanor. She was nervous starting out, flinching every time a tourist approached her, but slowly she seemed to finally accept not everyone she didn’t know was out to hurt her and suddenly she was a different person; still reserved, but managing to smile and even ask a few people how they were, and if they enjoyed the Shack.

She was certainly no conning protégé, but it was one hell of a start, Stan thought. He was beyond proud of Mabel.

She shadowed him on a few mystery tours over the next few days, following him around the gift shop and listening to his antics. He sometimes brought attention to her, garnering sympathy from his customers over “his poor, orphaned great niece,” and it worked because she was so small and skinny and did look a lot younger than nineteen, not to mention she’d figured out that when Stan did that she should make a pitiful face and maybe even hug him for good measure. That usually elicited a lot of sympathetic murmurings, and Stan’s profits made a decent leap for the day.

She got better at dealing with customers. She would make suggestions and flash adorable grins, using her cuteness to her advantage like Stan had told her to. Dipper tried very hard to hover over his sister while she worked, but Stan usually chased him off, commenting about how they didn’t need three people at the register.

Things were going smoothly and Mabel was getting into a comfortable routine in the Shack.

Stan should have known it as all too good to last without trouble. The Pines family attracted misfortune too easily for that.

It started with the reappearance of a person Stan truly loathed, a pale little Southern kid by the name of Gideon Gleeful – acclaimed town psychic, which Stan was certain was a sham – who for some godforsaken reason was hell-bent on acquiring ownership of The Mystery Shack. The kid was wealthy, sure, and offered a whole lot more money than the Shack was worth each time he made on offer, but Stan couldn’t abandon the Shack – especially not with the machine in the hidden basement. He refused every offer, and Gideon seemed to get more and more frustrated with each rejected proposal.

Gideon came in a few days after Mabel had grown comfortable with her work in the Shack, and Stan turned him down again like he always had. The boy stormed out of his office looking furious, and Stan followed close behind to make sure he didn’t knock anything over out of pure spite.

Dipper witnessed his uncle coming into the room after the strange, pale boy – he looked a few years younger than himself and Mabel, and had an unnatural height and volume to his nearly-white blonde hair – and watched curiously in an effort to see what was going on. The boy looked angry enough to hit something, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides, looking around the gift shop as though trying to decide what would give him the most satisfaction to turn over – and then his expression changed when he looked towards the register.

Mabel was sitting at the counter today, manning her post alone as it was Wendy’s day off, sketching on a notepad and completely oblivious to what was going on.

Gideon at once made a beeline for Mabel, and Stan had no time to figure out his intentions before Gideon was at the counter, grinning at his great niece. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest peach I’ve ever seen!”

Mabel looked up from her sketch, confused. “Um… we don’t sell peaches,” she said slowly, her eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.

Gideon laughed. “Adorable and funny too. What’s a cute thing like you doing working in a dump like this?”

Mabel stared at him for a few moments. “I work the register,” she said, giving it a pointed look. She was completely missing all his flirtatious cues. “Grunkle Stan taught me how.”

Gideon wasn’t a quitter, though. “I’m Gideon Gleeful, Gravity Falls psychic. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

Her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! You have that funny commercial on T.V.!”

Gideon’s grin faltered for just a second. “You think it’s funny?” he asked, a little offended.

“Yeah! All those doves make me laugh! They just fly everywhere!” Mabel beamed, and Gideon’s smile stretched back across his lips. “Do the thing!” she requested eagerly. “The future telling thing!”

She didn’t notice his eyes darting wildly around, catching sight of her signature on her drawing – she still had a grasp on writing, though it had devolved in her years of captivity, and her handwriting was like that of a child’s – and he smiled coyly. “Something tells me that your name is…” he looked up at the girl, amused by her utter fascination. “Mabel.”

She gasped, completely clueless to his method of “future telling.” Clapping her hands a few times she asked in awe, “How’d you do that?!”

Before Gideon had the chance to reply Stan butted in. “If you’re not buying anything then get out of here, you little monster,” he said gruffly, coming to stand protectively behind Mabel and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Gideon retreated, glaring briefly at Stan before offering Mabel one last smile. “I guess I’ll get going. I hope to see you again, sweet peach.”

After Gideon had gone through the door, Stan looked down at Mabel. “Was he bothering you, sweetie?”

She shook her head. “He just came up to the counter. He didn’t buy anything, though. People don’t come to the counter without buying something.” She shrugged. “He did his future telling thing, though. I don’t know how, but he knew my name.”

Stan grimaced, staring down at her signature so prominently displayed in the corner of her sketch. He didn’t want to completely spoil her fun. “Yeah… who knows?”

She smiled and showed Stan her sketch. “Look!”

He felt the corner of his lips twitch into a smile. “Is that Soos?”

“Yeah,” Mabel nodded. “And the raccoon he pulled out of the trash today.”

 “It’s good,” Stan said fondly, patting her shoulder. “Go on, Kid. Shack’s closed for the day and your brother’s got dinner started in the kitchen.”

Mabel gathered up her drawings and proceeded through the door that read _Employees Only_ , practically skipping. Stan let out a long sigh of relief. Thank goodness Mabel had been entirely oblivious to Gideon’s advances. She may have been nineteen, but she was still more or less a child. Stan wasn’t anywhere near ready for her to start thinking about boys.

Especially not that Gideon kid.

 

It turned out the raccoon Soos had pulled out of the trash wasn’t quite done with the Mystery Shack yet. It returned in the dead of night – along with several of its friends. Stan and Dipper spent the night waging war against the pack of furry bandits, running around after them with flashlights and nets while Mabel slept upstairs, blissfully ignorant of the battle taking place around the Shack’s perimeter.

Which meant the next day Stan and Dipper were utterly exhausted while Mabel remained a ball of hyperactivity. After they’d closed up shop for the day Stan had taken to dozing off in his armchair in the living room, and Dipper took a seat on the floor, his back against the weird dinosaur skull Stan used as a side table. He kept falling halfway into sleep and jolting awake, telling himself he should start dinner but never quite finding the energy to get up and do so.

That left Mabel to her own devices, free to get into all sorts of things Stan and Dipper had so far prevented her from. She came skipping into the living room with rhinestones plastered to every part of her face, looking very pleased with herself. “Dipper, look!”

He did, and groaned. He didn’t have the energy to deal with this. “Oh, no. Mabel, please tell me that’s not permanent.”

“Nope.” She shook her head before taking one of them and yanking it off her cheek. Immediately, she grimaced. “Ow.”

Dipper smirked and shut his eyes again. “Well, that’s what you get for bezazzling your face.”

Mabel pouted and turned towards the door. “You guys are no fun,” she complained, heading through it and down the hall into the kitchen, methodically plucking sequins off her face. She gathered them in her palm and deposited them on the kitchen table, looking around. Usually Stan, Dipper, and she were in the middle of dinner by now, but with both her great uncle and twin down for the count, it appeared she would have to fend for herself. Which meant trying to find something she could stick in the microwave. Stan and Dipper wouldn’t let her near the stove under any circumstances.

Mabel yanked open the refrigerator door and stared, dismayed, at its threadbare contents. No wonder Dipper had been saying for three days they really needed to go to the store. She pulled the freezer open next, hoping she would find something there, but no such luck. There wasn’t even a hot dog to microwave.

Mabel sighed and shut the doors, instead getting a glass of water and settling down at the table, sketching absentmindedly with a colored pencil. Hunger was beginning to stab at her, a sensation she had by no means forgotten but had grown unaccustomed to feeling over the past several weeks. Dipper and Stan were usually very on top of making sure she had food in her system. Mabel grimaced as her stomach twisted again in protest of its emptiness but made no sound. She’d experienced far worse before. She could handle one night without food, she figured. She didn’t want to bother her great uncle or brother with something that seemed, to her, so trivial. Especially not when they were so tired.

The knock at the door startled her, and she waited to hear if Dipper or Stan would wake up to answer it, but she didn’t hear them at all. She figured she would have to go see who it was herself. With a heavy sigh she got up and crept through the hall to the door, peering out the window at the front porch. She was surprised to see who it was.

She pulled open the door just slightly. “It’s you,” she said by way of greeting.

Gideon grinned back at her. “Yep, it’s me,” he said. “I know we didn’t get to talk much in the Shack, but after yesterday I just couldn’t get your cute little laugh out of my head.”

Mabel giggled and pulled the door open wider. “I am pretty adorable,” she said, which was the response she usually gave when Stan or Wendy told her how cute she was.

Gideon pointed at her sleeve, which had a few sequins that had previously been attached to Mabel’s face hanging from it. “I can see you appreciate the sparkly things in life,” he smiled, watching Mabel pluck the rhinestones off. She offered them to him and he took them, attaching them to the collar of his suit jacket.

Mabel beamed at him. “Those look way better on your shirt than they did on my face,” she said approvingly, nodding at his handiwork.

Gideon laughed, growing more enamored of her by the second. He found her extremely adorable. “You are just enchanting!”

Mabel stepped aside, asking unsurely, “Um… do you want to come in?”

Gideon hesitated. “Unfortunately, Stanford is no fan of mine. I doubt he’d appreciate me entering his home.”

Mabel sighed. “Okay. Then I guess you have to go.”

“Wait!” Gideon exclaimed as she began to shut the door. “I was thinking I could take you somewhere. To dinner, maybe?”

Mabel bit her bottom lip nervously. “I… I don’t know if I should,” she mumbled, just as her stomach let out an audible growl.

Gideon smiled at her. “It sounds like you could use some food. I know all the best places here in Gravity Falls.”

“But… Grunkle Stan and Dipper… and I don’t do very well in… I mean, I can’t be around a lot of people,” Mabel stammered, and trailed off when Gideon held out his hand to her.

“I can make all the necessary adjustments,” he assured her. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, sweet peach.”

He won her over with his charming demeanor and promises of food. Mabel offered him a shy smile and put her hand in his, allowing him to escort her out to his car.

 

Dipper jolted awake a few hours later, disoriented. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He had no idea how long he’d been out, but already it was dark outside. That wasn’t good. He looked around. Stan was passed out in his armchair, snoring softly. The house was quiet.

“Mabel,” Dipper groaned, pulling himself to his feet. Jesus, he’d left her unattended for a few hours at the very least, and they hadn’t ever made dinner. As far as he could recall there wasn’t anything in the kitchen Mabel would have been able to make for herself, which meant wherever she was, she was going to be hungry. He felt really bad about that.

He shook Stan’s shoulder, and his great uncle swatted at his hand before opening his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked groggily, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We fell asleep. We’ve got to find Mabel; she’ll need food.”

“Crap,” Stan groaned, standing up next to his great nephew. “Where’d she get to, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Probably curled up somewhere with her art or her knitting,” Dipper sighed, and then began calling his sister’s name. “Mabel! Mabel, come on! We’re sorry we fell asleep on you!”

Stan joined in. “Come on out, Kid!”

Mabel didn’t respond, and Dipper groaned. “She’s probably upstairs bezazzling all of her sweaters or something.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Go find her, alright? I’m going to start dinner.”

Dipper shrugged, heading out of the living room and up the stairs to the attic and nudging the door open. The lights were off, and it was silent. He figured maybe she’d gone to bed, but when he checked he found her bed empty.

Growing worried, he went back downstairs. “She’s not up there,” he announced, coming into the kitchen where Stan was filling up a pot with water to put on the stove.

“She’s got to be somewhere,” Stan said, though he felt a twinge of concern himself. Mabel didn’t usually disappear like this.

“Maybe she’s mad,” Dipper suggested. “We did kind of check out on her.”

Stan let out a scathing noise. “If she’s ticked off at that, she’s got to learn to toughen up.” Dipper gave him a long stare, and Stan sighed. “Yeah, I know. She’s been through enough. Maybe she’s in the gift shop putting sequins on the attractions.” He paused. “Actually, that wouldn’t be a terrible idea…”

Dipper shrugged and went to look in the gift shop, but his twin was nowhere to be found. Starting to panic, he hurried back to the kitchen. “Grunkle Stan, she’s not there either.”

Stan stared at his nephew for a brief moment, then shut off the stove and at once proceeded to the back door. “I’ll look around outside. You look anywhere in this house you can think of, alright?” he ordered, an urgency to his voice. Dipper nodded and sprinted into the hall, throwing open closet doors and any cupboard with a crawl space he could think of, shouting Mabel’s name. He heard Stan doing the same from outside.

After fifteen minutes when the inside and outside of the house had been thoroughly searched and neither of them had found Mabel, Stan sprinted for the phone, fully intending to call the police, when he and Dipper heard the sound of a car coming up to the house, the engine cutting off, and car doors opening and slamming. Voices – both which Stan recognized.

Dipper sprinted to the porch, having heard his sister’s voice and nearly sick with the relief washing through him. “Mabel!” he shouted, not stopping until he had wrapped her up in his arms, squeezing her so tight she started protesting.

“Dipper,” she mumbled breathlessly. “You’ll squish him.”

“Huh?” Dipper drew back and looked at Mabel. She had something cradled in her arms, and he realized with a fair amount of shock that it was a lobster – a live lobster, with thick rubber bands around its claws. “Mabel… what… where did you even…?” he asked, too dumbfounded to form a proper question.

“She was just so upset when she found out they were going to kill the creature,” a voice with a thick southern accent drawled, and Dipper looked up to find a pale boy with nearly white hair wearing a sky blue suit smiling fondly at Mabel from the front of the car. “So instead of cooking it, I had them give it to her to keep.”

Dipper had almost forgotten there was someone who had taken and returned Mabel in his relief to see his sister. He wrapped a protective arm around her and narrowed his eyes at the boy. Before he could say anything, however, a furious shout rang through the night air. “Gideon!”

Stan was storming across the lawn for the car, an expression of rage on his face. “You manipulative little gargoyle; what did you do with my niece?!”

“Why, Stanford!” Gideon grinned innocently into Stan’s angry expression. “I don’t know what you could possibly be implying. I only took this adorable sweet peach to dinner – quite a difficult feat, mind you, as I had the entire place cleared out first so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable—”

“I don’t care about how difficult your night was,” Stan growled, his fingers curling into his palms. He was clearly resisting the urge to punch the kid. “I want you _off my property_ , and I don’t want you coming around here again. And if you _ever_ take Mabel again I swear I’ll have you arrested on charges of kidnapping.”

Gideon’s eyes narrowed, but his smile grew even more sickly sweet. “Now, Stanford, do you really think the good people of Gravity Falls – the people I have wrapped around my little finger – would ever convict _little ol’ me_ of something so awful?” he asked with all the confidence of a cat who has already caught its prey. “And besides – Mabel went with me more than willingly. Isn’t that right, sweet peach?” he flashed a grin at Mabel.

She stared blankly back at him. “Um… yes?” she asked unsurely, looking from Gideon to her Grunkle Stan.

“Get out of here,” Stan spat, and Gideon shrugged and turned away, heading back to the driver’s door of his car. He smiled charmingly at Mabel. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon,” he said before crawling into his car and starting the engine, backing away from the Shack before heading down the road towards town.

The dust Gideon’s car kicked up settled, and everything went unnaturally quiet. Stan was shaking with anger, still staring at the place Gideon had been moments before. Dipper still held onto Mabel, staring open-mouthed at his great uncle, and Mabel seemed to be realizing something was wrong.

Finally, Stan took a deep breath and turned around, stalking back into the Shack. “Get inside, you two,” he barked, and Dipper and Mabel both hurried to follow him through the door.

Once inside Mabel reached out a hand and placed it on Stan’s shoulder, biting her lip. “Grunkle Stan, did I do something bad?” she asked, and Stan groaned, rubbing his temples.

“Just… go put your lobster in the fish tank in the living room and go to bed,” Stan muttered, and Mabel’s face fell and she shuffled off sadly.

“You don’t have to be so mad at her,” Dipper said coldly, hating to see Mabel so upset. “She doesn’t understand what just happened. Hell, _I_ don’t completely understand what just happened.”

“I’m not mad at her,” Stan sighed, heading for the kitchen. “It’s that Gideon kid I’m pissed at. His fucking _nerve_ …”

That didn’t alleviate any of Dipper’s confusion, and he followed Stan back into the kitchen, sitting down at the breakfast table as his uncle turned the stove on again. “This can’t happen again,” Stan said.

“Yeah. No kidding," Dipper sighed.

Mabel crept into the kitchen, looking nervous. “Um… I wanted to say good night,” she said meekly, glancing briefly at Grunkle Stan but focusing mainly on her brother.

Dipper grinned reassuringly at her. “Okay. I’ll be up in a bit.”

She nodded and began to turn away just as Stan crossed the kitchen in two strides and wrapped her up in a hug. “Grunkle Stan?” she asked, the shock in her voice apparent.

“I’m happy you’re safe, sweetie,” Stan mumbled quietly, and Mabel slowly smiled and returned the embrace. Stan pulled away after a few moments and grazed a kiss to her forehead. “Good night, Kid.”

“Good night,” Mabel said gratefully, heading out of the kitchen with a much happier gait.

Stan shook his head after she was gone. “I don’t think I could ever be mad at that girl,” he said, going back to the stove.

The room was quiet for a while, and as the water on the stove started to boil and Stan was reaching for the box of rice on top of the fridge, Dipper asked, “What’s your problem with Gideon?”

“I hate him,” Stan growled, dumping rice unceremoniously into the pot. Grains of it scattered across the counter and floor. Dipper sighed and retrieved the broom from next to the door.

“Yeah, but aside from that,” he said, starting to sweep up the rice his uncle had spilled.

Stan let out a long breath. “Well, he’s my business rival and keeps trying to buy the Shack, for starters, but it’s more than that. He’s no psychic, that much is obvious, but some of the things he knows about the people in this town… it’s not right. He’s cunning. He’s manipulative. He likes using people for his own entertainment. Thinks it’s funny.” He stirred the rice a few times before slamming the top on the pot. “There’s something not right about that pale little freak, but everybody loves him. Nobody listens to me. Nobody _ever_ listens to me,” he muttered darkly.

Dipper stared at his uncle. Gideon had unsettled him too, but clearly Stan had all sorts of reasons to fuel his hatred and though his uncle was a bit of a crooked grifter, Dipper trusted his judgement. “So what are we going to do?” he asked. “Gideon was obviously very – er – _fond_ of Mabel. How old is he, anyway?”

“Seventeen, I think,” Stan grunted. “Had a big party a few months ago. Invited the whole town. He knows how to play the people, Kid. There’s nothing the idiots of Gravity Falls love more than a good party.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, shutting off the stove. “I don’t know what we’re going to do, to be honest. He wasn’t lying when he said there’s no way the people in this town will find him guilty. He’s the town darling. But we’ve _got_ to keep him away from Mabel.”

Dipper nodded as he put away the broom. “No arguments here.”

As Stan doled out rice into two bowls he said, “I’ll get Wendy to keep an eye on Mabel tomorrow. You go to the store and restock this kitchen. Get stuff Mabel can microwave. I’ll give you some cash.”

“What are you doing tomorrow, then?” Dipper asked.

“I’m going behind enemy lines. Bud Gleeful may be a big dope, but he’s still Gideon’s father. Maybe I can get him to knock some sense into his son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I wanted to get all of the first Gideon arc into one chapter but it's already long and I wanted to give you something, dear readers. Watch for part two. I hope you enjoyed this!


	17. Middle Ol' Problems

Mabel was obviously still confused the next day, and unfortunately neither Stan nor Dipper had time to explain all the things that had gone wrong the previous evening before they were out the door, Dipper to the store and Stan to face off against Bud Gleeful. Wendy did a good job of keeping Mabel out of trouble for about an hour, but when she took five minutes to go to the bathroom, she returned to find Mabel gone.

“Soos!” Wendy all but sprinted out the doors looking for the Shack’s handyman, who had been fixing a broken beam on the rafters of the porch. “Soos, did Mabel come out here?!”

“Oh, yeah,” Soos said nonchalantly from his perch on a wobbly ladder. “That Gideon kid stopped by to pick her up for their date. And get this – he was on a horse! I spent the last couple minutes trying to figure out what their new power couple name is going to be. Hey, do you like Mabideon or Gideabel better? Wait! How about Magidbeleon?!”

“What?!” Wendy yelped, looking around wildly as though Mabel would somehow magically appear on the porch. “Oh, god, Stan’s gonna kill me! He gave me one order and now – shit! How did that little cretin come in and snatch up Mabel the first second I took my eyes off her?!”

“Wait, I’m confused,” Soos said, looking down at her curiously as the ladder teetered dangerously. “Was Mabel not supposed to go with him?”

Wendy groaned and shook her head.

“Oh, Dude, this is not good,” Soos said, crawling down from the ladder. It tilted hard to the left until it fell over just as Soos’s feet hit the ground. “We got to find them, don’t we?!”

“Yeah,” Wendy sighed. “You stay here and watch the Shack. I’m going out looking for Mabel, okay?”

“On it!” Soos saluted, picking up the ladder and gripping it under his arm.

“How do you climb that thing, Soos?” Wendy asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. The threat of serious injury or death isn’t as scary if you just don’t think about it.”

“Huh.”

 

Right around the time Gideon was picking Mabel up from the Shack, Stan was storming up the Gleefuls’s front walkway working up to a speech he’d practiced in his head more than he would ever admit to anyone. The yard was sickeningly pristine with cute little garden gnomes littered about. Stan hated every inch of it.

On their front door was a sign reading _Please Pardon this Garden_. Stan irritably swatted it off its nail, grumbling bitterly, “I will pardon _nothing_!” Mabel, his niece who had been through enough as it was messing around with that little spawn of Satan? Not on his watch.

He began pounding on the door furiously, refusing to relent until it opened and there in the doorway stood Bud Gleeful, a giant of a man who was never seen without a colorful Hawaiian shirt and straw hat. He, like his son, had a thick Southern drawl. “Why, Stanford Pines! What a delight!”

Stan straightened up his posture, trying and failing to match Bud’s height, and started on his speech. “Listen up, Bud, I have a few things to say about—”

“Wait, wait, wait, let’s not talk out here on the porch,” Bud interrupted, beaming, “You simply _must_ come in for coffee!”

Stan was thrown off his trajectory. “But – but I came—”

But Bud grabbed Stan’s arm and pulled him into the house before he could finish his protest, shutting the door behind him. “It’s imported,” Bud continued, proceeding towards his kitchen. “All the way from Columbia!”

Stan hated to admit it, but he was impressed. “Wow. You know, I went to jail there once.” Enticed by the promise of fancy coffee guaranteed to be better than the dollar stuff he bought – and sometimes shoplifted – from the local market, Stan took a few steps after Bud, taking a look around. He whistled, examining the trinkets on the coffee table. “Some digs you got here.” A clown painting on the wall caught his eye. “Oh, this. This is beautiful!”

Bud grinned as he came into the living room, handing Stan a mug of coffee. “Now, I hear that your niece and my Gideon are, well, they're singin' in harmony lately so to speak!”

Stan was reminded of his mission, but found himself much less enthusiastic with his first sip of coffee. He was considering taking on the new mission of stealing Bud’s imported coffee. And maybe also the mug, because it was much nicer than any of his. “Uh, yeah. And I’m against it.” Feeling as though he needed something to punctuate his displeasure, he knocked a pillow off the couch. “Meh.”

Bud shook his head, wrapping an arm around Stan’s shoulders. “No no no. I see it as a fantastic business opportunity! Yes, the Mystery Shack and the Tent of Telepathy. We've been at each other's throats for far too- let me get that.” He ripped down a picture of Stan on a dartboard they were passing as he led Stan through the house. “We've been at each other's throats for far too long, yes we have. This is our big chance to set aside our rivalry and pool our collective profit, you see!”

And all at once, Stan forgot that he didn’t want Mabel within a hundred feet of Gideon. “I’m listening…”

 

Mabel was quickly becoming disenchanted by Gideon as he told her a story about a fan who had been irritating him. “And so I said, autograph your own headshot, lady!” Gideon laughed, passing Mabel a pair of opera glasses.

The pair was sitting on the roof of the factory that manufactured his merchandise, looking out at the town below them. Mabel kept trying to keep some distance between them but Gideon constantly scooted closer to her so their arms touched, and now Mabel had no choice but to sit uncomfortably close to him because if she moved any further she was afraid she might fall off the edge of the roof.

“So… the view from your family’s factory is great,” Mabel commented awkwardly, peering through the glasses at the water tower.

“Isn’t it?” Gideon smiled, watching Mabel instead of staring down at the town. “Mabel, when I'm up here looking down on all those little ol' people, I feel like I'm king of all I survey.” He reached up to brush a strand of hair from Mabel’s face behind her ear, but she flinched away. He pulled back, but still grinned at her. “I guess that makes you my queen!”

“I, um…” Mabel shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like being so close to Gideon. It made her feel nervous. “I don’t think I want to be queen.”

“My princess, then,” Gideon said without hesitation, wrapping an arm around Mabel’s shoulders. She shrugged them until he took it away. “I’m speaking from the heart, Mabel.”

Mabel stared at him. She was starting to feel sick. “From the where, now?”

“Mabel, I’ve never felt this close to anyone before,” Gideon said, suddenly serious. “You’re the most wonderful girl I’ve ever met. Much better than any other girls in Gravity Falls. I want to be with you.”

“But I… I don’t,” Mabel protested, and then she stopped protesting and started screaming instead. Gideon’s hand had found her inner thigh, and as soon as her high-pitched shriek rang out, echoing throughout the valley he pulled it back and Mabel scrambled to her feet, dangerously stumbling as she scrambled for the ladder they had taken to get up to the roof.

“Mabel, get back here!” Gideon yelled, but she wouldn’t hear it. She was sobbing as she descended the ladder to the ground, running as fast as she could for the town she had been staring at not-so-contentedly just a minute ago.

She had just hit the pavement and was starting to panic as she saw people ahead when she heard a familiar voice. “Mabel?! What are you doing out here?!”

“Dipper!” Mabel let out a choking sound between a sob and a sigh of relief as she whirled around and stumbled into her brother’s arms before falling apart.

He had been in the local grocery store parking lot loading groceries into the back of his truck when he had spotted her, more than a little confused as to what she was doing in the middle of town on her own obviously about to have a panic attack.

She was beginning to hyperventilate, and Dipper didn’t want a huge scene in the middle of the parking lot, so he ushered her quickly into his truck and shut the door behind her before hurrying around to get into the driver’s seat before she completely lost any composure she might have had left. Still not an ideal place to have a panic attack, but better than an open parking lot. “What happened?!” he asked urgently as she buried her face in his jacket, wrapping an arm around her.

“I—and he—I don’t—” Mabel couldn’t get any word out through shallow, incomplete breaths, and Dipper held her closer.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be fine, okay?” What had Stan taught him about dealing with her panic attacks? It had been a while since she’d had one. The square, right? Yeah. That worked.

He began to trace a square on her inner arm. “You remember this, right? Breathe in… and out. Okay? In… and out.”

It took her a full ten minutes before she was finally breathing normally again, and Dipper let her cry herself out before he turned on his car and started driving back to the Shack. He wasn’t going to press her yet. As much as he wished he could be her ultimate calming presence, he knew Stan was a lot better at handling her meltdowns than he was.

But Stan wasn’t home when Dipper ushered Mabel into the kitchen, having her sit at the table with a cup of water as he unloaded groceries. “Are you doing better?” he asked, beginning to restock the cupboards with food.

She sniffled but nodded, wiping at her eyes with her sweater sleeves. “Yeah. I’m a little better. Thanks.” She watched Dipper pull a bag of chips from the plastic shopping bag and asked, “Can I have those?”

Dipper passed them to her and she ripped into the bag, stuffing a few chips into her mouth. Dipper waited until she swallowed to ask, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

She grimaced and let out a long sigh, pulling another chip out. “It was… it was awful. Gideon came here this morning with a horse—”

“You were with Gideon?!” Dipper interrupted furiously, and Mabel flinched. He let out a long breath. “Sorry, sorry… so he picked you up again today?”

Mabel nodded miserable. “He said he just wanted to hang out, and the horse was pretty…”

Dipper forced a smile. “At least there’s a little upside to this, then.”

But she shook her head. “It was no good. He had his body pressed right up to mine the whole time, and we rode out to his factory and climbed up to the roof to look at the town, and…” she bit her lip and Dipper noticed her hands starting to tremble.

“Deep breaths, Mabel,” he reminded gently, and she nodded and took a few shaky gulps of air before continuing, “You know how you’re always whining about Wendy putting you in the friend zone?”

“Hey, I do not _whine_! And I wouldn’t say she’s put me in the friend zone _exactly—_ ” Dipper started to interject, but Mabel cut him off.

“It was like the opposite of that. I liked the friend zone, but he just... he kept trying to pull me out of it into the romance zone. It was like… quicksand.” She shuddered. “Chubby quicksand.”

Dipper knew he shouldn’t have let her watch _The Never Ending Story_.

“Okay, but trying to pull you into the romance zone shouldn’t have… well, made you the way you were when I found you in town,” Dipper said, sitting down opposite Mabel.

She buried her head in her hands. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Dipper sighed. “Something happened, didn’t it? What did he do?”

Mabel was silent for a few moments, but slowly seemed to be working up her nerve. After a while she lifted her head, but just as she was about to speak the door burst open and Stan shuffled in looking extremely pleased with himself and wearing, of all things, a shirt with the words _Team Gideon_ across the chest. “Great news, Mabel. You have to marry Gideon!”

Mabel froze, staring at her great uncle in mute horror. It was Dipper who whipped his head around and demanded, “What?!”

“It’s all part of my long term deal with Bud Gleeful. There's a lot of cash tied up in this thing! Plus I got this shirt,” he gestured to it and then sighed, looking at his gut. “Ugh. I am fat.”

Dipper and Stan both jumped when Mabel let out a shrill scream and abruptly stood up, angrily throwing the bag of chips at her great uncle with all the force she could muster, which still wasn’t much, before she sprinted out of the kitchen. Dipper heard her footsteps pounding up the stairs to their attic bedroom.

“Idiot!” Dipper snapped at Stan, racing after his sister. He thought he heard Stan begin to ask what was going on, but didn’t stick around long enough to be sure.

When he walked into the attic, Dipper found Mabel curled up on her bed, the neck of her sweater pulled well up over her head and both her arms tucked inside. She was shaking. “Oh, no. Mabel,” he sighed, crossing the room and sitting down next to her.

“Mabel’s not here,” he heard her shaky voice mumble. “She’s in sweater town.”

When they were kids Mabel had often done this when she was upset or scared, and the habit had followed her with her new collection of sweaters. Sometimes it was easy to get her to come out. Sometimes she stayed cocooned in her sweater for hours.

“Are you gonna come out of sweater town?” he prodded gently, placing a comforting hand where he guessed her shoulder should be.

She let out a wordless whine and sniffled.

“Oh, boy,” Dipper sighed, holding his head. “You know you don’t have to marry anybody, right? Stan’s being dumb. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Mabel let out a long shuddery breath. “I… I don’t ever want to see Gideon again,” she whispered. Dipper barely caught the words.

Dipper felt a small twinge of triumph to hear them, and couldn’t help but smirk. They could keep Gideon away from Mabel after all. “Then you don’t have to. We’ll make sure he stays away from you, okay?”

“What’s going on?” Stan’s gruff voice came from the door, and their great uncle shuffled in, thankfully having ditched the _Team Gideon_ shirt for his usual undershirt. He looked down at his great niece, who was still wrapped in her sweater. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Dipper. “She okay?”

“Clearly not,” Dipper grumbled, glaring up at Stan. “How could you just come in and tell her she has to marry Gideon? After knowing everything that she’s been through? God, you make me sick.”

Stan shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Uh, yeah… it’s just… there is a lot of money tied up in it and everything. If we just… I guess…” he trailed off. “You know, it all makes sense when Bud explains it.”

“I don’t care how much money you’ll make,” Dipper hissed. “Mabel doesn’t want to see Gideon ever again.”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure if she gave the kid a chance—”

“Would you shut up?!” Dipper burst, his frustration bubbling over. “She did give him a chance. She gave him one this morning. The creep came here and picked her up on a horse, apparently, and it must have been when Wendy took her eyes off Mabel for just a minute because I know you gave her instructions not to let Gideon anywhere near her. I have no clue what happened after that, but do you know where I found Mabel?”

Stan stared at his great nephew, his mouth half-open. The kid had more of a spine than he’d thought. Dipper had never reamed him like this before.

“Do you?!” Dipper demanded, and Stan shook his head. Dipper shook his head. “She was stumbling through the streets near the edge of town, crying and about to have a panic attack. Thank god I was coming out of the store and saw her. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t been there.”

Stan groaned and took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shit,” he sighed. “I had no idea.”

It was Dipper’s turn to be taken back. Stan was usually so careful of not swearing around Mabel. He must have really felt awful.

Stan knelt down next to where Mabel’s head was and said softly, “Hey, sweetie. I’m sorry I scared you, okay? You don’t have to marry Gideon.”

“I don’t?” the question was muffled, but contained a tremendous amount of relief.

Stan grinned. “Of course not. I just lost my mind for a little bit there.”

Mabel wriggled her face up enough so that her eyes were above the neck of her sweater and she could look bitterly at her great uncle. “What about the money?”

Stan had to chuckle. She knew him so well. “Yeah, well. I may like money, but I like you a lot more, Kid. And no amount of money is worth seeing you miserable.”

Mabel sniffled again, slowly shifting so she was wearing her sweater normally again instead of cocooned inside of it. “You mean it?” she whispered.

“Of course I mean it,” Stan rolled his eyes, standing up and guiding her to sit up on the bed. “Budge over, Kid. I want to know what happened with you and Gideon today.”

She groaned. “I already said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but Mabel,” Dipper sighed. “I think you need to.”

She lowered her head, nervously rubbing her knees. “He just… he kept getting too close. I don’t like to be touched,” she mumbled. “But he wouldn’t stop. He tried to hold my hand and put his arm around me and kept pressing up against me… and then…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Please don’t make me talk about it,” she pleaded quietly.

“Come on, sweetie,” Stan urged gently. “What happened?”

“Um… he…” Mabel swallowed hard. “He put his hand on my leg. Right h-h-here.” She stuttered on the last word and indicated her upper inner thigh, shuddering. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I just kept… kept seeing the scary man… in-inside my head—”

She stopped talking when Dipper wrapped his arms around her in a hug, and she returned the embrace, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. “You never have to see him again,” Dipper said firmly. He had half a mind to go find the little cretin and punch his lights out.

Stan cleared his throat awkwardly and stood up. “I’ll, uh… go start dinner,” he said. “Let you two… yeah.” He trudged out of the attic in a hurry, furious with himself for being so enchanted by the idea of money that he could even for a second forget his traumatized great niece’s needs. Though it had hurt, he knew why his actions made Dipper sick. He sickened himself a little bit, too.

 

They soon found out that Gideon didn’t know how to take a hint. He showed up at the door of the Shack the next day, this time unable to swoop in and take Mabel without notice. Stan and Dipper barely let her out of their sight, so when Gideon knocked on the door Stan ushered Mabel into the kitchen, leaving Dipper to deal with their unwanted visitor.

He opened the door and Gideon grinned at him. “Oh, Dipper Pines!” Gideon exclaimed, though Dipper could hear the displeasure in his voice. The brat wanted Mabel. “How are you? You look good.”

“Sure,” Dipper brushed aside the compliment.

“Say, is Mabel around here somewhere?” Gideon asked sweetly. “There was a little misunderstanding yesterday, but I’m sure she’s over it by now. I’m here to take her to dinner.”

“Yeah, look, Gideon. Mabel isn’t joining you tonight,” Dipper informed him stonily. “As a matter of fact, she won’t be joining you at all anymore. She never wants to see you again.”

Gideon’s smile melted into a look of badly-masked rage. “So what you’re saying is you’ve… come between us,” he said, his eye twitching. Dipper could tell he didn’t know how to respond to hearing what he didn’t want.

“If you want to feel that way, sure,” Dipper rolled his eyes. “But you’re never going near her again.” He shut the door with a little more force than necessary and heard Gideon let out a scream of fury before he locked the door and trudged into the kitchen.

Mabel was sitting next to Stan at the table, nervously stirring a spoon in a mug. Dipper assumed Stan had made her some of the microwaved hot chocolate, since they’d both agreed long ago never to give her coffee. She looked up when her brother came into the room. “How did it go?” she asked at once. “Was he mad? Did he try to read your mind with his powers?”

Stan snorted. “That kid doesn’t have any powers.”

Dipper smiled and sat down. “He was mad, yeah. But he’ll get over it. He’s a stupid kid with an unhealthy crush. And if he does try anything, Stan and I will be here to stop him. Okay?”

Mabel, looking relieved, nodded. “Okay.”

“You want some marshmallows in your hot chocolate?” Dipper asked, and Mabel’s eyes widened.

She turned to her great uncle. “Grunkle Stan!” she exclaimed, sounding shocked. “We have marshmallows and you didn’t tell me?!”

Stan shot Dipper a look. “Thanks for making me the bad guy, Kid,” he grumbled, though he was still amused. He had no idea they had marshmallows. Dipper must have picked some up at the store.

As Dipper retrieved the marshmallows, he watched Mabel. She was smiling now, looking content. She felt safe again. Good.

 

Things returned to the way they had been before Gideon over the next few days. They heard nothing from the self-proclaimed psychic, and Dipper, though still a little wary, was beginning to think the boy was getting over his crush on Mabel.

They were outside after the Shack closed for the day, messing around with Soos. The handyman was entertaining Mabel by tucking a pillow under his shirt and letting her charge at him, giggling when she bounced off. Dipper was watching from the porch. He was supposed to be inside helping Stan stock merchandise, but he got distracted watching his sister have fun for once.

“Dipper! Come help me with these boxes in the back!” He heard Stan call from inside, and Dipper sighed, knowing his break was over.

“Coming!” he yelled back, slipping inside. The back storage room was a cramped and dangerous place, with rickety shelves stuffed with half-full boxes of t-shirts and trinkets. It was due for a good clearing out, but apparently Stan had been putting that off for the last several years. Dipper went in to find his great uncle struggling to get a box off the top of a shelf near the very back of the room. “Grunkle Stan, do you need a ladder or something?”

“Of course not,” Stan grunted, swatting at the box. It budged slightly, but the shelf rocked menacingly. “I’ve been doing it like this for years.”

“I’m not sure this is such a great idea,” Dipper mumbled.

“Stop your whining and grab that box over there.” Stan pointed at a box on the top shelf opposite him, and Dipper shrugged and proceeded to begin maneuvering through the clutter of boxes on the floor to get to where his great uncle had indicated.

Stan continued his endeavor, growing more and more frustrated by his numerous failed attempts, until he finally managed to give the box a good hit and it rested halfway over the edge of the shelf. Stan let out a cry of victory just before he realized that things were about to go horribly wrong.

The shelf came down with a tremendous crash, knocking Stan backwards into Dipper and the both of them fell over, desperately covering their heads to protect themselves from the rain of boxes. Thank god most of them were empty. Stan began cursing, using several words Dipper had never heard before, and they heard Soos yelling, “Mr. Pines?! Dipper?! You dudes okay?!”

Stan groaned and sat up, shoving boxes away from him. “Damn it,” he muttered as Soos appeared in the door. “I’m good,” he grunted, struggling to stand up. That fall had screwed up his back. “Sore as hell, though.”

Dipper stood up as well, kicking a few boxes angrily. “I told you that you needed a ladder!”

“Yeah, fat lot of good that does us now,” Stan shot back snidely. He turned back to Soos. “Wait a minute. Where’s Mabel?”

Soos looked around in confusion. “I thought she was right behind me. We heard the crash and I rushed in to see if you dudes were okay. I could have sworn she followed me.”

Dipper didn’t waste a moment before he scrambled over the boxes, sprinting out of the room and then out of the Shack just in time to see a car he recognized roaring down the street away from the Shack, with Mabel nowhere in sight. “Fuck!” he yelled, grabbing his head and starting to shake with anger. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!”

“What is it?!” Stan demanded, hurrying onto the porch. “What happened? Where’s Mabel?”

“Gideon got her,” Dipper spat, marching to his truck. “And if that little jerk thinks he’s getting away with this he’s got another thing coming to him. _Damn_ it!” he clambered into his truck and slammed the door shut. He didn’t even think to ask if Stan wanted to come along before he stuck his key in the ignition and turned it. The engine roared to life and he slammed down on the accelerator, his car shooting forward as he raced it into town.


	18. Grand ol' Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this ages ago and completely forgot to post it here... *nervous laughter* Hope you enjoy it, all of you who are still with me.

Mabel had struggled with all her might against Gideon as he forced her into his car, one hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream, but all her might still didn’t amount to very much and the fight she’d put up had made little difference. He’d stuffed her into the passenger side of his car and locked her in, and Mabel had begun shouting as he scrambled into the driver’s side and went roaring down the road, away from the Shack.

“Let me out!” she shrieked, trying to wrestle the door or window open. No such luck. Gideon had both of them locked. “I don’t want to go with you!” She started smacking him, trying to hit his face. The car swerved as he tried to stop her.

“Mabel, sweet peach, I’m driving here!” he exclaimed, flinching as she got his cheek. “You’re going to get us both killed!”

“Let me go!” she howled, relentless in her assault on him. She’d had enough. He’d violated her personal space, come far too close, and made her suffer through horrific flashbacks of her abuser as he forced her into his car. He had trapped her. She hated him. She wanted out. She wanted Stan and Dipper to find her and to beat Gideon up.

“Mabel!” Gideon lashed out, one hand flying up and getting her clean across the face. She was so startled she stopped hitting him, her hand going to hold her stinging cheek instead. He had _hit_ her. Just like the scary man had. But this time, instead of feeling frightened, Mabel was growing sufficiently furious.

Gideon returned both hands to the wheel, his car going much straighter now. “I’m sorry I had to do that, but you’re being entirely unreasonable,” he said, though his voice indicated her was not sorry at all.

She at last accepted that she was not getting out before he let her out, and curled both knees into her chest, glaring at Gideon. “I hate you,” she snarled.

But Gideon only laughed. “Your brother sure did a number on you, huh, darling? He blackened my name real well. It’s alright. A few days away from him and that no good Stanford, and we’ll have you in your right mind again. You’ll see.”

Mabel wanted dearly to hit him again, but restrained herself. She didn’t want him to slap her again. “I hate you,” she said again, and for good measure began to pick at the peeling leather of her seat, determined to ruin it. Her own small revenge. She was sure Dipper or Stan would come for her. They had wanted her to stay away from Gideon right from the start. Why hadn’t she listened?

 

Dipper had a fair idea of where Gideon would take Mabel. After all, the little criminal could hardly bring her home with him. That would arouse questions. No, he’d need to take her somewhere secluded enough that his kidnapping could go unnoticed, but close enough to the town that he could slip right back into his daily routine without any delay.

So Dipper made his way as quickly as he could to 412 Gopher Road, the large building on the outskirts of town that served as factory for Gideon’s merchandise and warehouse to store it in. He knew the moment he pulled up it was the right place. Gideon’s car was parked at the back, but he and Mabel were nowhere to be seen.

Dipper parked his own car and got out, hurrying for the warehouse door. He was surprised to find it unlocked. Surely it couldn’t have been so easy. “Mabel!” he shouted, the door slamming shut behind him. He wasn’t worried about Gideon hearing him. He could take that little cretin in a fight any day of the week.

“Dipper Pines,” a southern accent drawled from near the center of the room, and Dipper looked up to see the chair there swivel around to reveal Gideon seated in it, his hands positioned in a way that the tips of his fingers touched like the big reveal of a villain in an old spy movie. “I see you found my hiding place. You’re a lot smarter than I gave you credit for.”

“Where’s Mabel?” Dipper demanded, advancing on Gideon.

“In a safe place,” Gideon smiled, not at all concerned by the murderous glint in Dipper’s eye. “Where she can’t be influenced by you and your filthy lies.”

“She’s not into you!” Dipper spat, looking around furiously for his twin. “She never has been!”

“LIAR!” Gideon shrieked furiously, standing up out of his chair. “You turned her against me!”

“Dipper!” a frantic voice came from behind a door on the side wall, and Dipper was relieved. At least Mabel was conscious. “Dipper, is that you?!”

“Mabel!” he yelled, printing for the door. He had almost reached it when he was stopped by something. An invisible force. He found he could no longer move any of his limbs. “What the hell?!” he shouted, desperately trying to force his way through whatever was holding him, but it was no use. He was completely immobilized.

Gideon started laughing maniacally. “Reading minds isn’t all I can do!” he said gleefully, and Dipper was quite alarmed to feel himself being lifted off the ground into the air, rotating so he could see Gideon, now standing several feet below him. Gideon was clutching his bolo tie and concentrating intensely on Dipper’s frozen form, and the green gemstone that made the center accent of his tie was glowing.

Dipper yelped as the invisible hold on him vanished, and he toppled to the floor with a painful impact, as he was unprepared for the fall. Recovering and staggering to his feet, he stared at Gideon, his rage now mixed with confusion. The glow around the gem of the boy’s tie was gone now. “But… you’re a fake!” Dipper protested, contemplating taking a swing at Gideon and making another run for the door Mabel was being kept behind.

“Oh, tell me, Dipper,” Gideon cackled. The gemstone began to glow green again, and behind him a dozen boxes rose into the air, hovering some five feet off the ground. “Does this look fake to you?!”

Dipper was forced to throw himself left and right as he dodged the boxes flying at him with alarming speed. He was hit twice, and the force of the blows knocked the wind out of him. Whatever was in those boxes was heavy. He leapt behind a stack of boxes, knowing that wouldn’t help much in the long run if Gideon had telekinetic powers but for now would serve as a shield as he caught his breath. “Stan was right about you,” he taunted. Maybe if he made Gideon mad, the boy would slip up. “You _are_ a monster!” He spied a handle sticking out of one of the boxes and reached for it, pulling out a baseball bat. Excellent. At least now he could swat away any more boxes thrown at him.

He supposed now was as good a time as any. Steeling his nerve, Dipper darted out from behind the boxes and charged at Gideon, but was only a few feet away when the bat flew out of his hands and he was floating upwards, his legs forced together and his arms pinned to his sides. He swore colorfully and shouted furiously at Gideon, “She’ll never love you! How could she?! You’re a psychopath!”

“More lies!” Gideon countered, smiling cruelly. Another box floated towards Dipper, this time very slowly so that Dipper could see the label. _Lamb Shears_. One of the tools floated out of the box, its blades clicking together menacingly.

 _Jesus Christ_ , Dipper thought, fear flooding his mind as the shears positioned themselves at his neck, wide open. If they closed that would be his head off.

“I’m going to make sure you never lie to Mabel again,” Gideon said with a sick amount of justification, and slowly the blades began to close. Dipper shut his eyes, hardly believing this was how he was going to die.

A tremendous _bang_ echoed through the room and the door Mabel had been behind burst open, Mabel toppling out with a fire extinguisher in her hands, evidently having knocked the door handle off with it. Dipper had never seen her look so angry. She sprinted toward Gideon with a mangled scream not unlike a war cry, and Gideon was so startled that he lost his concentration. Dipper fell to the ground and barely managed to roll out of the way of the shears as they dropped, inches away from his head when they hit the ground.

Mabel hit Gideon in the stomach with the fire extinguisher and he let out a cry of pain before she threw the heavy tool at his legs and punched him square in the nose. “You _locked me_ in a _closet_!” she shrieked, hitting him again. Tears were threatening at the corners of her eyes. Being trapped in that tiny space had brought back an onslaught of terrible memories, and she would never forgive Gideon for forcing her to relive them. She was so mad she felt like she could have killed him.

"Mabel!” Gideon protested meekly between blows, trying unsuccessfully to dodge them. “My marshmallow!”

“I’m _not_ your marshmallow!” she screamed, grabbing his tie and ripping it away from his neck. Gideon gasped and fumbled for it, trying to take it back.

“My amulet!” he cried, grasping desperately for it. “Give that back! Give that back to me _right now_!”

Mabel knew she wasn’t going to be able to fend off Gideon for very long. It had taken her nearly all her strength to get the handle off the door and the rest of it to punch Gideon for locking her behind it. So she turned to her brother. “Dipper!” she yelled, and he knew exactly what she was going to do even before she yelled, “Catch!”

He did, laughing. “Not so powerful without this, are you?” he taunted Gideon just as the boy charged him. Barreling into him with such force that Dipper dropped the amulet and staggered backwards, both of them smashing through the window.

It hadn’t really occurred to Dipper that the factory was on the edge of a cliff until that very moment, as he and Gideon were falling towards the ground to certain death. Gideon was screaming wordlessly, writhing in the air like that would slow their descent. Dipper, in contrast, was eerily calm. He’d nearly been beheaded by lamb shears not five minutes ago. This would be an easy death compared to that.

Mabel had watched Gideon and her brother go out that window and screamed for Dipper before doing the only thing she could think to do if she wanted him to live. She’d sprinted for the amulet and snatched it up before flinging herself out the window after them, gripping the gemstone tightly and concentrating with all her might on Dipper, Gideon, and herself. For a brief moment she was tempted to only save Dipper and leave Gideon to fall to his death, but then she didn’t quite have the heart. Her brother and kidnapper both stopped in midair just inches above the ground, and she dropped them gently before floating down to meet them, landing gracefully.

She stood up straight and looked Gideon directly in the eye. “I hate you,” she said seriously. She was almost calm about it now. “And that will never _ever_ change.”

Dipper, though recovering from two near death experiences, still had it in him to cheer for his sister before he felt himself lifted into the air again, though this time controlled by his twin. She was levitating herself as well, and guided them until they were back at the warehouse doors, next to Dipper’s truck. She glared towards the cliff. “ _He_ can walk back up here,” she said fiercely, then glanced at Gideon’s car. “In fact, he can walk all the way home.” She grasped the amulet and watched with great satisfaction as the car rolled towards the cliff and then went over its edge.

They heard Gideon’s furious shriek and an enormous crash as the car hit the ground. “THIS ISN’T OVER! DON’T YOU DARE THINK FOR A SECOND THAT THIS IS OVER!”

“That’s that,” Mabel said, satisfied with herself, before she threw the amulet on the ground and stomped hard on it with her heel. Dipper heard it shatter, and when she raised her foot the gemstone was in several dull pieces, clearly past repair. She yanked on the passenger door of Dipper’s truck and climbed inside. “I want to go home,” she said simply, and Dipper was more than happy to oblige.

 

Stan was much more worried about his great niece and nephew than he would ever admit to them, pacing nervously on the porch of the Shack until he heard the sound of Dipper’s truck coming up the road. He saw Mabel in the front seat as the truck came to a stop and he rushed forward, hardly letting her get her footing as she got out of the car before he had thrown his arms around her in a hug. “Mabel,” he said in relief. “Jesus, sweetie, you know how to take a few years off an old man’s life.”

Mabel smiled and nuzzled her face in his shoulder. She was exceedingly grateful to be home. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Not your fault, Kid,” Stan assured her, looking up at Dipper. “Where’d that basta—I mean, where’d that cretin take her?”

“The Gleeful factory,” Dipper said shortly. The fact he had nearly died twice tonight had caught up with him at last, and he was shaking. “Let’s go inside. We’ll tell you all about it.”

As the Pines family trekked into the Shack, Dipper began to explain that Gideon had attacked him with shears, leaving out the parts about the amulet and its powers. He ended the tale with Mabel bursting out of the closet with the fire extinguisher and beating Gideon.

“That’s my girl,” Stan said fondly, throwing three mugs of water in the microwave to make them all a round of hot chocolate. He looked back at Mabel. “You want marshmallows, sweetie?”

He expected her to grin and reply with an affirmative, but this time she went a little pale before shaking her head. “I think I’ll stay away from marshmallows for a little bit,” she said, thinking about some of the pet names Gideon had come up with her during their brief amicable relationship. She’d probably never be able to see a peach without grimacing.

“I don’t think he’s going to leave us alone,” Dipper said warningly to Stan. “He sounded like he was swearing vengeance at the end there. He’ll come after Mabel again. I’m sure of that.”

“And I’ll hit him again,” Mabel said decidedly, watching Stan pull mugs out of the microwave. “I hate him.”

Stan couldn’t help but chuckle. “Atta girl. You give him hell, sweetie.”

And as he watched her talk to her brother, slipping easily back into her happy, goofy self, he had no doubt that she would. For all her fears and issues with her past, he was entirely certain she wasn’t ever going to take crap from anyone ever again.

He only wished he’d been more like that when he was younger. Maybe then there would be a fourth person at this kitchen table, laughing and talking with the rest of them.

Stan felt a twinge of urgency in his gut and stood up rather quickly. “It’s getting late,” he said. “Finish your drinks and go to bed, got it?”

Mabel and Dipper stared at him, but didn’t argue. “Okay, Dipper said blankly, confused as to his great uncle’s sudden urgency.

Mabel didn’t seem as bothered. “Okay,” she shrugged, taking another sip at her mug. As Stan began to trudge out of the room she called after him, “Goodnight, Grunkle Stan.”

“Goodnight, kiddo,” Stan said back fondly before he entered the hall and hurried down it for the gift shop, disappearing behind the vending machine and descending to the Shack’s hidden basement to get to work.

He was getting close. He could feel it.


	19. Unexpected Crisis

Things fell into a comfortable rhythm in the Shack over the next few weeks, with only a few bumps. Dipper was rather crushed to learn Wendy had a boyfriend, therefore crushing any fantasies he might have had about one day successfully flirting with her. What made it worse was the guy she was dating was a guy who Dipper despised – a guy named Robbie Valentino who had a long face and was fond of wearing eyeliner. Every time Dipper saw the stupid black hoodie with a patchwork heart stitched into the front, he wanted to hit something.

Mabel was starting to show real talent for salesmanship, using her cute face and a few well-timed pouts to rake in the cash for her great uncle. Soon Stan was calling her his protégé, often having her strolling in the gift shop or working the register to maximize her ability with the tourists.

She was doing much better. She still had nightmares, but very infrequently, and after a the few months of eating properly was finally beginning to fill out to the point she could no longer see her ribs unless she sucked in her stomach. Of course, now that she was healthy again it set other things in motion – things Dipper and Stan hadn’t even considered.

 

It was very early in the morning when Dipper was awoken by a persistent hand shaking one of his shoulders, and slowly he became aware that Mabel was standing at his bedside shaking and crying. “Mabel?!” he gasped, shooting up in bed. “What’s the matter?!”

She whimpered, her bottom lip trembling, and held out the hand she hadn’t been using to shake him awake. Her fingers glistened scarlet.

“What did you do?!” Dipper demanded at once, scrambling out of bed and placing his hands on her shoulders, looking for any signs of injury on his sister. He saw none. “Mabel, where did all this blood… come…” he trailed off when his gaze shifted from Mabel to her empty bed, where he could see a pool of blood right where she must have been lying all night. “Oh,” he said awkwardly, slowly taking his hands off her shoulders. “Um…”

“What is it?!” Mabel pleaded tearfully, her breaths short. She looked on the verge of a panic attack. “Why is there blood?! Am I dying?!”

“No,” Dipper said numbly. He had no clue what to do. It hadn’t even occurred to him over the last several weeks that Mabel should be getting periods once a month. It wasn’t something he’d ever had to deal with before. “You’re not dying. Everything’s okay. Just… um… go downstairs and get in the shower, okay? And maybe soak your nightgown in some cold water so the blood comes out. I’m gonna… deal with some stuff to help you, okay?”

She sniffled once and nodded, proving once again to Dipper that she trusted him without question. “My stomach really hurts,” she whispered.

“Oh, boy,” Dipper sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… shower,” he finally said lamely. “Take a long one. Long and hot. Don’t worry about Stan getting mad at you for using up the hot water or anything, okay? This is a kind of special situation.”

“I don’t feel special,” Mabel muttered, but turned and trudged downstairs. Dipper grimaced, seeing the large circle of blood on the back of her nightgown.

“Jesus” he breathed, shuffling over to Mabel’s bed and stripping the sheets. “How did this never come up before?”

 

Dipper threw Mabel’s bedsheets into the washing machine and went into the kitchen, having heard Stan shuffling about making coffee. “Morning,” Stan grunted at him. “Want some coffee?”

“Yeah, but before that there’s, uh… something’s happened with Mabel,” Dipper said, not knowing how to tell his great uncle that Mabel had taken a step into womanhood, or whatever it was those awkward middle school puberty pamphlets and videos used to say. Mabel hadn’t been around for those. She had no idea what was going on.

“What’s going on?” Stan asked, obviously not worried. He probably assumed Mabel had put sequins on all of her sweaters or something trivial like that.

“Well… she woke me up this morning and was… er… bleeding,” Dipper mumbled.

That caught Stan’s attention. “What?!” he exclaimed, whirling around so fast that some of the coffee in his mug sloshed onto the floor. “What’d she do?!”

“Nothing,” Dipper said quickly. “It’s just her first,” he paused and groaned. “God, this is way weirder than it should be.” He took a deep breath. He was just going to say it. “Mabel got her period.”

There was a loud _crash_ as Stan’s coffee mug slipped out of his hands and fell to the floor, smashing into pieces.

Silence fell in the kitchen, neither Dipper nor Stan making any movements, watching the pool of coffee on the floor spread. Finally, Stan cleared his throat and asked, “Is she okay?”

“She’s freaked,” Dipper said, kneeling down to delicately pick up pieces of broken mug. “She just woke up and there was blood, and she was pretty scared. I think she thought she was going to die.” He grimaced, remembering her terrified expression.

Stan went to get the mop. “Did you explain what was happening?”

Dipper stared up at his great uncle. “Yeah, about that… I’m not a hundred percent sure what _is_ happening, you know?”

Stan cracked a grin, easing the awkward tension in the air. “What, you never got the talk?”

“I was pretty adamant about blocking out the girl’s health part of those talks,” Dipper retorted, tossing broken ceramic pieces into the trash. “What about you? Can you explain it to her?”

Stan recoiled. “Oh, no. No way.”

“Well, someone’s got to tell her what’s going on,” Dipper said. “She’s gonna be… you know, for a few more days. And we’re going to have to get stuff for her, right?”

Stan looked mortified at the thought.

 

After several minutes of deliberation and arguing, it was decided they should call Wendy to help Mabel, and Dipper and Stan played a desperate game of “rock, paper, scissors,” to decide which of them would go to the store to buy Mabel the necessary supplies. Dipper lost, much to his dissatisfaction, but didn’t complain as he left the Shack.

Wendy drove up a few minutes after Dipper left, getting out of her car and pulling out a duffel bag, which she slung over her shoulders and brought into the Shack with her, coming in through the kitchen door. “Morning,” Stan greeted her stiffly, staring suspiciously at the bag.

“Hey, Stan,” she grinned, noticing his way gaze. “I brought some supplies,” she explained. “Me and Mabel are gonna wage war on Mother Nature.”

“Well, she’s still in the shower,” Stan said. “She’s got to be close to getting out by now, though. She’s been there nearly twenty minutes.”

“She doing okay?”

“No clue. I didn’t see her. Apparently she woke up Dipper this morning pretty freaked out. Thought she was dying.”

“Poor thing,” Wendy said sympathetically. “Did he at least try to explain to her what was going on?”

Stan fell silent, giving Wendy her answer. “ _Guys,_ ” she muttered, rolling her eyes before slinging her bag further up her shoulder and ducking into the hall, heading towards the bathroom. Stan let out a sigh of relief. Wendy would be a damn sight better at explaining things to Mabel and helping her through it than he and Dipper could ever hope to be.

 

Wendy was something of a miracle worker. She had ushered Mabel upstairs after her shower and the two of them hadn’t come down for an hour while Wendy explained what was going on and what could be done. Dipper arrived back some time after they disappeared into the attic with everything Wendy had told him over the phone to get, still blushing red, and threw what could only be described as an ungodly amount of chocolate into the cupboard over the fridge before he went to start stocking up the bathroom with his other purchases.

When the girls finally did appear in the kitchen again, Mabel looking much more content in sweatpants and the baggiest sweater she owned. Stan was cooking oatmeal on the stove, and looked up and cracked a smile. “Feeling better, sweetie?” he asked.

She nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. Wendy went and poured herself a cup of coffee, not bothering to ask if she was welcome to it. Stan didn’t mind – she’d gotten him and Dipper out of a very awkward situation and he was grateful. “I explained everything,” Wendy told him. “What’s happening, how often it’s going to happen, what she needs to do. She was just relieved that she wasn’t kicking the bucket.”

“Good,” Stan nodded. He wasn’t very keen on _thank yous_ , but made a mental note to give Wendy a bit of a bonus on her next paycheck.

“I guess it’s because she’s finally healthy again, huh?” Wendy asked, glancing at Mabel fondly. “Though I’ve got to say, I feel bad for her. The first one _sucks_.”

Dipper came into the kitchen then and stopped short, seeing Wendy leaning casually against the counter sipping coffee out of the mug he usually claimed as his. “Hey,” he said awkwardly. “You’re back.”

Wendy offered him a salute. “Morning. You get everything I told you to?”

Dipper shook himself, remembering her boyfriend and how he didn’t want to tread any toes, even if he did think he could take Robbie in a fight. “Yeah, I got everything.”

“Good man.” Wendy raised the mug to him before taking another swig of her coffee. “Dang, Stan, this is pretty awful.”

“I didn’t make it for you,” Stan grumbled, spooning oatmeal into a bowl for Mabel.

 

Mabel spent most of the day in the armchair of the living room, watching colorful daytime television and old movies, occasionally trudging to the kitchen to microwave water for hot chocolate if there was no one to coerce into doing it for her by whimpering pitifully. She was very content with the heating pad Dipper had gotten at the store – according to Wendy, an essential item on the list she’d given him – and was extremely adamant about using it as a blanket. Dipper came in every so often to give her chocolate, and Stan would duck in every so often to check on her. Wendy was extremely precise on timing when it came to popping in and having Mabel take more painkillers, which Stan and Dipper both admitted probably helped the most.

It went on like that for the next few days until Mabel was back to her usual bubbly self, and while Stan and Dipper were both relieved to see her back to normal they were already dreading next month when they would have to do this all over again.


End file.
